


Strawberry Wine

by desperationandgin



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, World War 2 Era, it's sad but not diana gabaldon sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-06-25 09:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19742560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: On her last summer holiday before beginning nursing school, Claire meets Jamie Fraser of Lallybroch and their lives inevitably twine. Please don't judge my writing ability on my summary skills.





	1. The Farmer's Son

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, everyone, to my next multi-chapter series! This story begins the year before the UK officially joined WW II and is loosely based on the song by the same name.

_As I looked up at the well-worn path, I remembered back to that summer between the life I led, care-free but studious, and the one I had now. My care-free days were far behind me, left in the ashes of the War. But for one perfect, restless summer, I’d found a blissful escape on the banks of a river, in the arms of a farmer’s son. Our love had grown wild around us, so quickly, I thought, it was as if the universe, upon seeing us together decided_ ‘Yes. These two are a pair.’

_My legs carried me across overgrown fields, years since they’d seen a plow. All around me, with every structure I saw, there was nothing time hadn’t touched. My fingers moved to my lips as I closed my eyes, desperate to remember a kiss that happened so long ago. Had I known it would likely be the last one, I’d have never let him go._

\------

When I was a young girl, my parents, on their way home from the theater, died in an accident. I think I was too little to understand what that meant; I knew they weren’t coming back, but I didn’t understand the _why_ of it. They were simply gone, and I was soon on my way to live the life of an intrepid traveler. I’d thought of them at first, but being only five years of age at the time, I couldn’t remember much. I missed the way I used to curl in my father’s lap, laying with my head tucked into his shoulder while he smoked his pipe and listened to classical music on the radio. I missed the way my mother would brush out my hair, unruly even then, and style it into a slightly frizzy braid.

As I’d grown up and begun to find interest in the old things my new guardian hunted for, the memories of my parents slipped further away. Life with Uncle Lamb was exciting and different every day. My ninth birthday had been spent in Egypt, digging in hot sand when not kissing local boys. I’d loved that life, enjoyed the various tutors I had in the places we stayed. In France, I’d studied until I was fluent in French; and in Rome, I’d curiously poked at learning a bit of Latin and became good at reading it. By the time I turned twenty, the only continent I hadn’t been to was Antartica, but I’d seen enough that I knew what I wanted to do first before anything: attend nursing school. Then, I envisioned having enough knowledge to help local villagers in the places where my uncle and I traveled. This was to be my last summer of travel before classes began. I’d be class of ‘42, but it sounded so far away, off in a different decade.

For now, we were on our way to Scotland so that Lamb could visit with an old friend. Before I ever entered the picture, my uncle had worked closely with a man named Brian Fraser, as artifacts of Culloden Moor were unearthed for the first time in centuries. Lamb and his team had done the digging, Mr. Fraser the delicate work of cleaning and restoration. An avid Scottish history enthusiast, it seemed he and my uncle had become very fast friends over dates and historical tidbits. Now we were going to his home, to stay for the summer as guests. As Lamb drove up the path, I peered out of the window and at the nearby canopy of tree limbs overhead. It was beautiful, the way sunlight filtered through the leaves, and I imagined what it must have been like to ride a horse under such a natural tunnel.

Once the home itself came into view, my mouth fell open upon seeing it. I’d been told it was old, but this was an actual _artifact_ of time, exquisitely kept in prime condition, lived-in and still full of happiness. Standing on the front porch after ringing the bell, my fingers ran over the plaque that announced this as _Lallybroch; est. 1702_. I gaped at it after doing the math. Two-hundred and thirty-six years old, and still completely beautiful. I could even see a mill turning, off in the distance, and at once felt as though I’d fallen through time. When the door opened, an elderly woman answered, ushering us inside and hugging my uncle. I smiled in introduction, and then Mrs. Crook led us to a large and open room, filled with more books than I’d ever seen in a private home. As soon as we stepped in, a man I assumed to be Brian Fraser leapt up from behind his desk, shouting in greeting before hugging my uncle. I stood to the side, hands behind my back, and tried to remember the last time I saw Lamb greet _anyone_ that way. I was pulled out of my thoughts once the attention was on me.

“My niece, Claire Beauchamp.”

I smiled and was struck by the warmth and kindness in Mr. Fraser’s eyes. His handshake was gentle, and he guided me to sit as he drew us further into the room. Tea was poured for all, and I was happy to sink into the warmth of it, listening to two old friends trade stories back and forth. After a while I excused myself, asking for the washroom and meandering my way there. The architecture of the home was gorgeous, the wood detailing impeccable. Already I’d been told this home had been built as a freehold belonging to Mr. Fraser’s family generations back. After a brief visual tour on my way to and from the washroom, I re-entered the library but walked around the shelves, looking at books. Some of them seemed well-worn, old and possibly brittle. Dragging my finger along spines, I glanced at various titles. _The Wonderful World of Oz_ was shelved right next to _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , and next to it, _Dracula_. The wild variety just in that small sampling made me smile to myself.

Walking by a window, I paused as something the color of fire caught my attention. Parting the curtain a bit more, I glanced outside and realized what it was: the most brilliant shock of red, curly hair I’d ever seen. Widening my gaze, I realized it adorned the head of a shirtless man who carried a bale of hay over his shoulder. He was sweating, beads of it dripping from a curl near his temple and down his chest.

I’m not sure I ever consciously realized _swoon_ was a word before that moment, but I became very aware of it right then.

I was staring and told myself to stop risking his looking up and realizing. Apparently, I was in no mood to listen to my own advice. Instead of finding trousers as my gaze wandered lower, I realized he was wearing a bloody _kilt_ , and one of my hands covered my mouth on instinct. Glancing over at my host, I realized he was wearing a kilt as well, and looked back out the window. By the time I was done admiring the calves from under said kilt, I realized the legs hadn’t moved at all, as if frozen. Snapping my eyes up, they met his, blue as a bright day and shining with amusement. I could feel my cheeks begin to flush, and then he smiled and I ducked my head. I couldn’t believe he’d caught me, embarrassed as I looked up again to sheepishly smile in return. We held each other’s gaze for a few moments before I let the curtain fall and walked back to my seat. In a lull of conversation, I spoke up.

“I saw a young man outside, red, curly hair?” _Shirtless and muscled and beautiful?_

“Oh, aye,” Brian responded. “That would be my son, Jamie.”

_Jamie_.

As I sat once more, I found there was no focusing on the conversation around me. I wondered what solid muscle felt like, and then wondered if Lamb and Mr. Fraser could tell I was blushing. I found myself unable to help it as my thoughts swung from the mild to downright torrid. I was caught up in thinking about what I might say to apologize for staring when footfalls caught my attention. Turning my gaze, I watched as he appeared again ( _wearing a plain white shirt now, much to my disappointment_ ), somehow bigger than I thought at first, looming in the doorway. He seemed to be a giant of a man, but with the same gentleness to his eyes that his father’s held. Standing, I felt my heart skip a half beat, wiping my hands on my trousers.

Mr. Fraser made the appropriate introductions and I extended my hand out. “Claire Beauchamp. I apologize for--well. Earlier, at the window.”

His smile immediately put me at ease as he shook his head, holding my hand as his thumb grazed the underside of my wrist. “Dinna fash, lass. I thought nothing of it.”

The ruddiness of his cheeks was a bit of a giveaway that he was lying, but I didn’t mind it. How could I, when my own thoughts had veered directly to the wildly inappropriate? 

“I hate to leave our conversation so short, Ms. Beauchamp, but if I’m to be at all presentable at supper, I should go wash up now,” he apologized.

“Claire. And don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find plenty to talk about later,” I offered with a hopeful smile. After he excused himself, I let my gaze linger after him, finding myself eager for supper, where I would finally have the chance to learn more about Jamie Fraser.


	2. Thirsting for Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie share supper, then a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the enthusiasm for this story! Here we go!

By the time supper was served, more people had arrived than I expected. It became a reunion of sorts with everyone and my uncle, and I didn’t mind that it left me free to engage in my own conversation down the table. I was seated next to Jamie's childhood friend, Ian Murray. Across from me sat Jamie, and by the look on his sister, Jenny’s, face, she was happy to follow my lead and speak with the person across from her.

“Jamie, your home is beautiful. It must take a lot to maintain the grounds. Do you take care of it by yourself?” I asked curiously.

When he shook his head, red curls bounced to and fro, barely grazing the sides of his neck. “No, I’m braw, but no’ quite _that_ braw,” Jamie admitted. “Along wi’ my da and I, Ian helps in the stables and my godfather, Murtagh, lives wi’ us as well to help.”

My eyes scanned the faces at the table, unable to place a face with the name.

“He’s no’ here at the moment,” Jamie explained, realizing what I was doing. “He tends to business on my father’s behalf, ye see.”

“Well, I do hope to meet him, though I’m sure I will at some point in the next few months.” The prospect of living here, in the same house with the man across from me, made my stomach knot and my mouth dry.

“Oh, aye, should be the day after next. He’ll likely be bringing more wine from a shipment coming in from my cousin Jared’s warehouse in France,” Jamie explained, even as he poured to fill my current glass.

“Your family is quite impressive,” I noted with a soft smile. “What is it that you hope to do one day?” I realized I’d hardly touched my food and corrected my mistake by eating a few forkfuls of meat pie.

“At the end of the summer planting, I’ll be going to finish my studies in France along wi’ Ian, travel a bit and see more of the world. But after that, here is where I plan to be, to live and work the rest of my days.”

 _He would build a family here_ , I thought, as my mind drifted to thinking of his own curly, red-headed moppets, following him around and hanging on his every word. So far, I’d spent no more than ninety minutes or so with him, counting introductions and the courses of our meal. That was plenty of time to know anyone with common sense would follow Jamie anywhere. I couldn’t explain it, but he had an ease about himself that made him seem invincible. Not that he realized it, I posited. He was so charming and endearing that the word _precious_ came to mind. His life would be filled with manual labor, but if seeing him without his shirt was any indication, his body was built for it. He’d looked like a strong, Viking warrior, taller than most Scots. I imagined his life would be filled with laughter as well; his eyes always seemed to dance with it.

“What about you, Sassenach?” he asked casually.

I blinked, turning my brain over in search of the meaning of that word. “What?” I responded ineloquently, wincing internally at myself.

“I mean, what do ye plan to do at the end of the summer?”

For some reason, I could feel my cheeks flushing red, and I cleared my throat, switching to the cool water glass for a sip. “I’m going to nursing school, in London,” I finally answered. “And after that, I’ll keep traveling with my uncle, I suppose, going from place to place.” Finding and discovering new things, and always on the move.

“Ye dinna think of ever settling down somewhere?”

His eyes seemed to be boring into my own, and when I wet my lips, I saw his stare drift down, then back to my eyes.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a permanent home since the age of five. I believe the longest I’ve stayed anywhere was a year and a half, and that was only because I became ill and was bed-ridden for weeks.”

“What happened to ye?” he asked in alarm, looking me over now for signs that anything was still wrong.

I smiled, hoping that it eased him. “I was fourteen and contracted mononucleosis. It causes a fever and sore throat, not to mention extreme fatigue. I recovered fine, I promise,” I assured him.

He seemed concerned still, but soon settled back in his seat. Before he could speak, raucous laughter drowned him out, and we glanced down at the men laughing over one another’s stories. My gaze moved back to Jamie as he stood, then came around to my side of the table, bending to speak against my ear.

“Would ye care to walk wi’ me, Claire?”

I felt an involuntary shiver run up my spine and wet my lips once more before smiling up at him. I nodded, then scooted my chair back before offering my hand. When he took it, I stood and found myself just a bit shorter than him, my chin tilted up a slight bit to meet his gaze directly. Still holding my hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. _This is what having butterflies in your stomach feels like_ I thought to myself, feeling my stomach twist in a pleasant, likely cliché, way. Leading me away from the table, he tucked my arm into his and we walked through the dining room, the living room, and eventually out through the front door.

“What did you call me earlier? When you asked me what it was I wanted to do with my life?” I was curious; I assumed it was a Gaelic phrase and hoped it didn’t mean anything unpleasant.

“Oh, I called ye a ‘Sassenach,’” he replied easily. “It doesna mean anythin’ more than ye’re no’ from the place ye currently are. I suppose wherever ye go then, ye’ll be a Sassenach.”

I was quiet for a moment as I processed what he was saying. Maybe I was quiet for too long.

“I’m sorry, Claire, I didna mean to offend ye,” he apologized hastily, and I quickly looked over to reassure him.

“It’s alright. What you said isn’t untrue, I suppose. I’ve always thought of myself as a gypsy. Going from place to place and trading stories of other lands with the locals before moving along. And eventually, I’ll be able to help with medical needs in small communities with no access to proper health care.” It was the most I’d said about it so far, and I instinctively began to apologize for dominating the conversation when Jamie interrupted me.

“Ye must learn so much of the world, see things that most people never will,” he said in awe.

His appreciation of it and understanding why I would choose such a life put me at ease, and I nodded over at him. “I had one of the best educations a child can get, in my opinion. The world was my classroom.” Which sounded a bit forced to my own ears, so I swiftly changed the subject.

“When you travel, where do you want to go first?” I asked, eager to hear more of what he had to say.

“I dinna ken just yet,” he said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I found a journal that my mam must have kept. She died when I was younger, so I read it, to be reminded of her. There was a list in the back, of all the places she wanted to see, so I thought I might honor her memory and begin there.”

I felt my heart swell in my chest at his sweet words and thoughtful idea. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Jamie,” I encouraged. “Let me rephrase my question then. Where would you like to go first from your mother’s journal?”

“The first country listed is Greece; she wrote that she wanted to see all of the ruins. Have ye been, Sassenach?”

I nodded and turned my gaze toward him. “It’s beautiful and old. Even despite that, it’s so easy to see what it once was. I enjoy the mythology of it all, and the ocean is beautiful.”

“When I leave at the end of the summer, it will be the first time I’ve seen such large waters, and I’ll only be flying over them.”

“You’ve never seen the ocean?” I asked curiously as we walked on a path that meandered lazily toward a field of heather. The moon was bright and full, making the purple flowers seem translucent.

“No. After my mam died in childbed, my brother, Willie, died of a fever as well. I’ve never thought to leave Lallybroch and no’ help. I went to school each day, down in the village wi’ my sister, but ‘tis only because of my godfather moving here permanently that I feel alright wi’ going away now.”

And even then, in a few years, he would be right back here. He was a good man, a good son, and I found myself, for the first time, longing for that sort of feeling. To know that I could go anywhere and always come _home_.

“I’m sorry that you’ve lost so much, Jamie. I do think following your mother’s list is beautiful. Perhaps I could even help you plan, tell you where to go in each place that’s especially worth seeing?”

His grin at me was broad and I couldn’t help but return it.

“Aye, that would be verra kind of ye, Sassenach.” I supposed I had a new nickname, and I couldn’t find a reason to dislike it coming from his mouth. As we walked through the heather, his free hand grazed along the flowers before speaking again. “My da told me a wee bit about ye, that ye live a nomadic life. Has it always been you and yer uncle, then?”

I could tell he was curious but trying not to be blatantly nosey, and I reached to pat his arm both in reassurance and so that he would stop and we could sit on an old stone wall that cut across the field. Once settled, I crossed my legs at the ankles and braced my hands on either side of me. “My parents died when I was a very little girl, and my Uncle Lamb took me in, rather than have me shipped away to a boarding school in the mountains.” I thought back, to the first time I’d slept in my new ( _temporary_ ) home. Everything had felt so cluttered with books and papers; it felt claustrophobic, and the bed hadn’t been _mine_. I could still remember lying awake until, eventually, my uncle began his nighttime ritual which included smoking his pipe. The smell had wafted to my nose and been such a reminder of home, that I’d fallen right asleep.

Jamie reached out to cover my hand and pulled me out of my thoughts. “Ye’ve lost too much as well then,” he said in understanding, but not pity. 

“I suppose I have. But I can’t really remember my mother the way you remember yours.” I didn’t know how to explain it, that I’d spent more of my life without parents than with. It didn’t truly feel as though there was anything to mourn when I was raised by someone I loved and lived a life others envied. “I just mean, I don’t miss as much because there wasn’t enough time for me to make cohesive memories.” I had a sinking feeling I was making myself sound like a terrible person, but Jamie surprised me.

“Aye, I understand ye, Sassenach. Ye never had cause to truly be sad and lived happily. Ye dinna need to worry about that, ‘tis genuine.”

Without even realizing it, he’d soothed a quiet voice in the back of my mind and I couldn’t help but scoot a bit closer to him. When my hand drifted to rest on his leg, the rough fabric beneath my fingers reminded me of something I’d wanted to ask. “Do you and your father, your godfather, always wear kilts?”

“Aye, we do. Once the ban on them was lifted a couple centuries ago, it became a custom of the men left in the Fraser clan to wear them. And so, we’ve always upheld the tradition. There are times that call for trousers, but ‘tis my kilt I’ll wear on my travels as well.”

He was a proud Highlander; it was clear he would bleed for Scotland through and through. “I like that. The spirit of keeping your traditions alive, honoring your ancestors who fought and died on this land,” I murmured as I leaned into Jamie. The sounds of night were all around us, various insects coming to life somewhere beneath our feet, which dangled from the wall.

“May I ask ye a question, Sassenach?” Jamie asked, turning his head just enough that the words fell into my hair.

“Of course,” I responded, my speech lazy and unhurried to end the conversation and thus the walk with Jamie. So far, it seemed the attraction was mutual on both sides, and I decided to let the evening --and conversation-- go where it would.

“Do ye think in the future, our paths could cross on our travels? I ken ye said you’ll be going to nursing school, but after that, perhaps.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “You would want to travel with me?” I asked. Wasn’t the point of a young man traveling ( _before settling down_ ) to experience life on his own, sow oats, and make memories, as it were?

“Who better a companion than someone who’s likely seen every place on my mam’s list? Besides, something tells me she wouldna want me to do it alone. She’d want me to bring someone along.”

I smiled softly and pulled back so I could look at him fully. “You would wait until I finished school?”

“Oh, aye. Two of those years, I’ll be finishing school myself, so that’s no’ a problem, Sassenach. And after that, I can do a bit of traveling wi’ Ian before circling back to London for ye.”

He already had a well-thought-out plan, and I stared at him in shock and amusement. “How long have you been coming up with this?”

There was only a small pause, small enough that I noticed it before Jamie spoke again, the tips of his ears turning a lovely shade of red. “Since I saw ye in the window, staring.”

His confession made my stomach twist in a way that made me tense in some sort of anticipation. Of what, I wasn’t sure. “Jamie, you should do some traveling alone, too. Experience things at your own pace for a while.”

“I will, there will be time for it when Ian and I part ways. He’s promised to Jenny, ye ken? So he’ll be coming back here to wed her I suppose, and after the wedding, I’ll have time enough to travel on my own.” He had a plan for every part of this and looked at me in expectation.

I couldn’t deny that the idea thrilled me. I wanted to know more about Jamie, I wanted to never stop talking with him. Already I missed the warmth of being pressed into the crook of his body. I’d never dated seriously before now and I suddenly understood why: it was supposed to feel like _this_. Nothing ever had before. I found myself agreeing before thinking any further on the matter.

“All right, Jamie. When I’m done with school, we’ll meet in London, and then go to Greece. Together.” Saying it made me smile; I’m sure it looked a bit crazed, because that’s how I felt making long-term plans with a man I’d only met hours ago. Still, I rationalized, for four years we would be slowly getting to know one another.

Taking hold of my hand, Jamie kissed the back of it. “Then it’s settled. I’ll wait for ye, Sassenach.”

We held one another’s gaze for a while, before the sound of Uncle Lamb calling for me from the house slowly filtered into my ears. For the most part, he knew I was a wanderer, but he was still protective of me in some ways, knowing I’d wandered with _a boy_.

“Come, Sassenach,” Jamie offered, standing and reaching out. He didn’t offer his arm this time, but his hand.

Smiling, I lowered myself to the ground before reaching out for him, tangling our fingers gladly. We seemed to fit together and walked leisurely back to his home. We let go of one another once we were within viewing distance, but exchanged sly looks as we walked through the archway. Moving toward Lamb, I kissed his cheek.

“You really should go on a walk of the property, Uncle. It’s beautiful.”

“Oh, yes,” he’d agreed. “And moreso in the daylight, I’m sure.”

His comment made my cheeks flush a bit and I was glad it was likely too dark to see. Once inside, the four of us were soon joined by Jenny and Ian, and we all enjoyed a dram of whisky. I listened as Brian regaled us all with a story about Jenny getting stuck in a tree and Jamie having to bribe her down with sweets. It was the sort of memory I lacked; one filled with playing with another child. I had no siblings, and it was always difficult to make friends as a young girl, traveled as we were.

Eventually, I could no longer hold my eyes open, and when I jerked awake after briefly nodding off, Jamie was looking at me, features soft.

“I could walk ye to your room if ye’d like,” he offered.

Deciding it was likely for the best, I bid my uncle and our company goodnight before letting Jamie lead the way upstairs. I fell into step beside him as we walked down the hallway, admiring portraits along the walls as we went. Outside of my door was a portrait of a woman with hair as red as Jamie’s.

“Your mother?” I guessed, my fingers hovering over the canvas, not touching.

“Aye,” he confirmed with a soft smile. “A self-portrait. She did all of them,” he explained, gesturing down the hall.

“She was an incredibly talented woman, Jamie,” I breathed out in genuine admiration. Pulling my eyes away from the portrait, I opened my bedroom door before turning to face him. “Thank you for your company this evening.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, but I hated that it sounded so formal. I hoped to remedy that by reaching for his hand, holding onto him again.

We locked eyes, and for a moment he let go of my hand, only to cradle it in his before tracing the lines of my palm with his fingers. I didn’t know what it was that made my heart tighten in my chest, but it also made my lips part and the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Ye’re sae bonny, Sassenach,” he murmured then, fingers dragging along my life line. “And delicate.”

“I’m not made of glass,” I managed, swallowing heavily.

His eyes flicked to mine, and then he smiled, full of warmth, before raising my hand to his lips and bowing his head to kiss it. He lingered for beats longer than typical before letting me go.

“Goodnight, Sassenach.”

I felt myself reach behind me to grip the doorknob in an effort to keep from falling over.

“Goodnight, Jamie.”

I watched him smile one more time before walking down the hall and disappearing into his own room. I only had one thought as I stepped into my own quarters and shut the door behind me.

He’d picked a hell of a time to be a perfect gentleman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For thanks to betas and mood board maker, please see my tumblr with the same username (desperationandgin)! Because these chapters are longer than my usual fare, updates will be weekly on Tuesdays for now. Thank you for reading :D


	3. He Had a Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire try to carve out time to spend with one another.

_There it was. That old 1937 Ford, or what was left of it, anyway. To see it in such a condition (rusted out, tire-less and with a missing bed) made my heart ache so violently that I pressed a hand to my chest, pushing back to keep it in place. When I closed my eyes, I could see the ghost of him, sitting on the driver’s side with an arm slung out of the window and leaning his head out as well. He would grin at me, driving so slowly I could lean down and give him a sweet kiss._

_We kissed and more in that truck. We spilled ourselves to one another in that truck. I said my goodbyes to him, sobbing, while sitting in that truck. And now here it was, this object that held such an important part of my soul, forgotten in an overgrown yard._

+++++

As Jamie and I spent time together, we were both unable to deny we were strongly attracted to one another; it was clear by the second night when I couldn’t help gravitating closer to him, until my head had rested on his shoulder while we spoke by the fire. I didn’t know about him, but I’d never been so taken with a person. My first thoughts upon waking were of whether he might be awake already ( _He always was; up with the sun_ ) or if he laid in bed thinking of me. I was always eager to see him in the mornings, and at night, after he’d walked me back to my room, my last thoughts were inevitably of him. Jamie Fraser was on my mind constantly, and I was aware that our time together would not continue uninterrupted forever.

Our third time out together, he’d given me a proper tour of Lallybroch and the grounds surrounding it. A natural born storyteller, I couldn’t help but listen, paying rapt attention to the way his hands gesticulated and his eyes danced with mischief as he regaled me with tales of spooked horses and snakes hiding in hay. I’d decided then that I could listen to him speak forever and never tire of his voice; the way it lilted was almost melodic, and I’d imagined the way it would wash over me if I ever had the chance to lay in his arms, tired but warm and buzzing with fading pleasure.

The fourth day, my only opportunity to see him had been at breakfast; for most of the late morning and afternoon, he was away with his father, driving to visit tenants. He’d offered to take me along, but I’d felt badly about neglecting Lamb in favor of spending time with Jamie. So, I’d begged off and spent most of mid-day and early evening with my uncle, poking about the library before letting him take me to places he’d been before. I couldn’t say it _wasn’t_ interesting and educational; he took me to Prestonpans and Edinburgh before we were done with our long day of travel, and by the time I tumbled out of the car, I was ready for my head to hit the pillow. But there would be no stopping Jamie and I from spending the next day together, alone.

That day had been the day I discovered he had a 1937 Ford pickup, and I’d ended our brief meeting by telling him under no circumstances were we to do anything but go for a ride in his truck the next afternoon; a miniature road trip, all because I wanted to go driving with _him_.

He didn’t disappoint.

The next morning, after waking and dressing for the day, I made my way downstairs to the smell of sausage and syrup, and Jamie’s sister settling a large platter of pancakes in the middle of the table. Once we were sitting, it was all I could do to stop myself from grinning broadly at Jamie around my fork. When he returned it, my heart squeezed in my chest and I was sure my cheeks flushed.

“Would ye like to accompany me to Inverness, Sassenach?” he asked casually. “I thought I could show ye around some of the wee shops.” His gaze, from the corner of his eyes, darted toward his father and I realized this for what it was: a show.

“Of course,” I lied ( _what I hoped was smoothly_ ), but made it a point to hide my face behind a cup of tea. “That’s one place Lamb and I didn’t make it to the other day, and I’d like to see it.”

“‘Tis settled then. As soon as I finish my duties, we’ll go out,” Jamie promised, and under the table, I felt his boot-clad foot nudge mine. Sharing a smile with him, I finished my pancakes, all the while keeping my foot lightly pressing to the top of his.

After Jamie excused himself I lingered at the table, forcing myself to eat at a normal pace rather than shovel food into my mouth as I listened to Lamb and Mr. Fraser discuss Culloden. I couldn’t believe they hadn’t exhausted themselves on the matter after years excavating the site. Still, I contributed politely, waiting it out for half an hour before finally excusing myself. As soon as I was out of view, I bolted for the stairs, going up quickly and changing from my casual trousers into a light blue dress with sleeves almost to my elbow. Pairing it with brown heels and a thin gold watch, I finished my look by setting my curls free and ruffling a hand through tangled strands to make them spring to life.

Outside, I paused on the front step to take a deep breath of fresh country air, admiring the blue of the sky. Already, it was a perfect day, and would only continue to be so. I made my way off to the right toward the stables, taking my time about it. Once Jamie came into view, I stopped to admire him leading horses out of their stalls, letting them free to graze all day. Not for the first time, I appreciated the hard lines of his body. He told me once that he played shinty in highschool, and it wasn’t hard to imagine him being athletic.

“Will staring at me be somethin’ ye do often, Sassenach?”

His words immediately pulled me out of my thoughts and I smiled innocently at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed _you_ staring at _me_.” It never felt invasive; when his stare settled on me, it always felt as though a warm blanket were wrapping around the very marrow of me. “Fair’s fair.”

Chuckling, he ducked his head as I finally walked toward him; once I was close enough, Jamie leaned over the fence and kissed my cheek lightly. “I suppose ye may be right. If I canna help myself, there’s no sense blamin’ ye for the same thing.”

“At least you have good sense,” I wryly mused before watching him next lead a beautiful black horse out of the stables. “What’s this one’s name?”

Jamie ran a hand over the horse’s withers. “This is Donas. Braw and fast, but mean. Throws everyone off but me.”

“I wonder what it is about you?” I asked curiously, not bothering to try reaching out to pet an ill-tempered animal.

“I dinna ken. I suppose we bonded, is all.”

Jamie shrugged it off, but I knew. It was easy to see the kind nature of him; his very presence could put a person at ease, and his eyes held sincere gentility within them.

“I think it’s incredible, that of everyone here who must’ve tried, you’re the only one he trusts.” I maintained eye contact with Jamie, watching as he let that sink in.

“Why, do ye think?”

“What?” Surely I wasn’t meant to say all the things I felt aloud.

“What do ye think the horse sensed in me and me alone?”

As he asked, he walked closer, reins still in hand. Clearing my throat, I fiddled with the clasp on my watch to buy myself time before looking back at him, dropping my hands. “I think Donas senses that you would never hurt him,” I began, letting myself get lost in the different hues of blue his eyes reflected. “I like to think perhaps he realizes you’re a safe person, someone worthy of trust.” There was more I could say, but I was stopped by the way his eyes drifted from mine to the nose of the horse.

There my hand was, idly stroking, and I paused in surprise, unsure of why I felt my face flush.

“Whatever he thinks of me, Sassenach, it seems he’s of the same mind about you as well.”

I watched as Jamie smiled in a way so beautiful it would be forever imprinted on my heart. We left the stables shortly after, and he led me by the hand to his truck. Once we were both settled in, he headed for open road. We started on the path to Inverness, then took a side street and enjoyed the fresh air and scenery. As I watched the fields go by, I couldn’t help but comment. “This might be the most beautiful place in the world, Jamie.”

When he glanced at me, I caught his eyes and we exchanged matching grins. “Aye, it is,” he answered simply, then reached for my hand.

I held onto him, watching as the breeze from the open window made his curls dance across his neck. “I do think you’re kind and wonderful, you know,” I finally murmured, body turned in my seat a bit so I could see him better.

The very tips of his ears turned pink, his thumb running a nervous course on the underside of my wrist. If he would only stop, he’d be able to feel my heart beating wildly under his thumb.

“I try to be, ye ken?” he asked quietly. “Kind, I mean. There’s too much happening in the world; I might as well aim to be better than that.” News of what was happening with Hitler in Germany was never lacking, the collective rest of the world seeming to hold its breath. “My mam always told me being kind never cost anyone anything.”

“What was she like, your mother?” I found myself asking, mostly just wanting to hear him speak as much as possible.

“Her hair was like mine,” Jamie said with a soft smile and a glance toward me. “And she was tall. Taller than you, Sassenach.” His father was a bit shorter, and so, Jamie took after his mother in every way. “She had two brothers, my Uncles Dougal and Colum, and neither of them approved of her marrying my father on account that she could marry better. Higher than a farmer, ye ken.”

“Clearly, that didn’t matter to her,” I observed.

“Och, no, she wound up sneaking away one night and meeting my father at the kirk. They were hand-fast and, well. After that, she couldna be allowed to give birth to a bastard, so…” He trailed off with a sly smirk tossed my way.

I laughed, hiding my smile behind my fingers. “That’s terribly romantic, Jamie.” I found myself wondering what it would be like to love someone so fiercely that you would defy your own flesh and blood to have them.

Turning my eyes back to the road, he continued to talk, telling me stories of his life growing up ( _He’d had an older brother, Willie, who’d died when Jamie was eight. Just before that, his mother had come down with a flu so terrible she’d died, and with her another baby boy, stillborn. It was all so horrible to hear, and yet the way he told the story was with the natural gift of an orator, something I idly thought each time he began telling a story._ ), and what he hoped to do for the farm once he officially ran things on his own.

“What about you, Sassenach?” he asked curiously. “Tell me about your family, your life growing up.”

I shifted in my seat, somewhat taken off guard by the shift in the conversation to me. “Well,” I began somewhat feebly. “You know my parents died when I was five. I don’t remember much before that.”

“I do remember ye tellin’ me,” Jamie replied tenderly, taking my hand and raising it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. Eyes on the road again, he spoke. “What’s yer happiest memory?”

He didn’t let go of my hand, the ghost of his lips still clinging to my skin ( _he made my belly coil so tightly I briefly shuddered_ ), so my fingers laced through his as I swallowed and closed my eyes to think. I could feel his gaze every time he glanced from the road to me. I tried to focus on one flash of a moment and expand upon it: being at the shore. It had to have been just before Lamb became my guardian, because it was one of my clearer memories; even still, it was fuzzy.

“I remember going to the seaside with my parents. I don’t remember where, if we were somewhere in London, but I remember my father lifting me up onto his shoulders while he waded into the water.” I could still see my mother across from us in the water, smiling. I couldn’t _really_ make out her face, but I knew it was her. Opening my eyes, I looked over at Jamie. “That, I suppose. I think I remember eating sweets in a shop that day, too.”

Jamie turned onto a road that wasn’t paved, but it was clearly well-traveled. “I’ve never been to the beach,” he reminded me. “But I canna wait to go one day wi’ ye. Make more happy memories.”

His words made my heart blossom with warmth, my features softening as I looked at him with fondness. He was so sweet-natured and kind; somehow he maintained a part of his boyhood innocence, even with all that he’d lost. “I want that too, Jamie,” I replied honestly, watching as high cliffs came into view before giving way to more meadow, rolling hills, and water below.

When we stopped, we were at Loch Lomond, and I stepped out of the car to look out at the water from where he’d parked. The body of water wasn’t very wide, but as I looked out from the hill I stood on, it seemed to stretch toward the horizon forever. I sensed Jamie beside me and turned to see him shaking out a blanket before laying it down for us to sit beneath a large Scot’s Elm tree. After one more trip to the truck, he was finally back with a basket containing our lunch, and we sat beside one another, grazing on grapes and cheese. Playfully, I broke a grape from the vine and held it to his lips, grinning when he not only obliged me by taking the fruit into his mouth, but kissed the tips of my fingers as well.

“I reckon I could spend every day just like this wi’ ye,” he murmured, gaze fixed directly on me.

“We can, you know. At least right now. We could come here every day until September.” I sounded earnest to my own ears, eager. “As long as I can spend time with you,” I amended, “I’m not sure I care where it is.”

Chuckling sweetly, Jamie reciprocated my earlier gesture by offering a piece of cheese, which I took gladly. “If I didna have to tend to my normal duties, I ken I would spend every waking moment wi’ ye, Sassenach.”

His comment made me blush, but I liked it; and when he held out his hand to me, I took it, running my fingers along his palm slowly. He did the same to my hand, and together we explored the various lines and curves in one simple appendage. His hands were strong and wide, the pads of his fingers calloused from years of labor. Lazily, his fingers climbed toward my wrist, tracing one of my blue-green veins with the tip of his index finger.

“I’ve never met someone sae bonny,” he spoke quietly.

“Surely there are Highlander girls who’ve caught your eye,” I stated dubiously.

He huffed out a laugh. “I’m no’ saying I’m _chaste_ , so aye, and they were pretty lasses, but you, Sassenach—” He paused to let his fingers glide down my jaw before his entire hand cradled my cheek. “You’re a beautiful _woman_.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and even if I did, my mouth was suddenly so dry I couldn’t swallow. Luckily, there was nothing I _needed_ to say. I saw him lean toward me and I knew to meet him in the middle, our lips coming together in a tentative first kiss. I felt his hands come up to my hair and tangle in the curls while my own spread across his shoulders. The kiss became less tentative and more lustful as I felt him press closer and I pressed back, my lips parting beneath his. 

With the first feel of his tongue against mine, I made a noise I was sure I never had before. It only encouraged him ( _both of us_ ), and then I took my turn to taste and explore _him_. Jamie was all woodsmoke and pine, earth and salt. As I had my fill, I realized hazily that I was in his lap and couldn’t remember how I got there. My fingers found a home in his hair as we took turns fighting for dominance, tongues pausing to duel before one of us would inevitably retreat in surrender. Eventually, the need to take deep lungfuls of air caught up with us both, and my forehead pressed to his.

“Christ, Sassenach,” he uttered on an exhale. “How did ye learn to kiss that way?”

My smile was coy as I laughed contentedly. I’d traveled the world and had my fair share of kissing lessons. My eighteenth birthday was particularly illuminating in Jericho, but instead of saying all that, I let my nose glide down the length of his until my lips hovered close enough to kiss, but didn’t.

“I don’t recall mentioning my chastity, either.” I kissed him then, swallowing his responding sound of surprise. When he finally pulled back to look at me, I spoke before he could. “Are you disappointed?”

There was a moment my question hung in the air before he simply shrugged and shook his head, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Ye ken, Sassenach? I dinna believe there’s a thing in the world ye could ever do to disappoint me.”

As we kissed there, under the tree and overlooking the Loch, I hoped that he was right.


	4. The Riverbank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire talk about home and other miscellaneous things before being interrupted.

"So, ye've never been to a real school before, Sassenach? Wi’ desks and other students?”

As Jamie and I strolled through the woods near Lallybroch, we walked side by side, fingers drifting close and brushing, a soft tease and promise of _more_. Even if we didn’t know when that would be. June had just rolled into July, but getting the land ready to plant in time for winter crops took up quite a lot of Jamie’s time. We’d managed to sneak in a few escapes here and there to the stables for brief interludes; it was hardly enough time to get into much trouble, but I could tell he was impatient to spend time with me. I was too; I found myself thinking of the way his tongue liked to swipe my bottom lip before our mouths fused together, and the way it felt when his nose slid over my cheek. The problem had been the sheer number of people always in and out of Jamie’s home or wandering the property; not that either of us thought we would cause a scandal, but it was summer, and this was new, and we wanted to keep it to ourselves.

“That’s right. Nursing school will be my first time,” I said good-naturedly. I wasn’t nervous, not really. I knew I was bright and could keep up with even the finest of educated women--and some men, as well. “I had a private tutor, not for any reason other than we moved so often. It was easier and more stable for me to have one consistent teacher on the payroll and someone local wherever we went.”

“Why someone local as well?” Jamie asked curiously, seemingly in the mood for listening rather than talking today. A mood I’d figure out how to change, eventually.

“To learn essential parts of the language spoken, to learn customs and history. That sort of thing.” I shrugged, not thinking much of it. My education hadn’t provided me with long-lasting ‘forever’ friendships or pop quizzes after lunch, but I never felt bereft for it. I’d been happy to roam and learn along the way. A part of me, I supposed, longed for a place to call home one day, but it was only just beginning to become a concept in the back of my mind.

As we came to a fallen log, I stepped onto it, and Jamie held my hand as I walked across and hopped off the end, landing right in front of him. “Tell me what else you hope to learn in France,” I requested as his hands moved to my hips and he leaned close to kiss my forehead.

“How to work well wi’ numbers and sharpening my mind for business,” came his easy answer as we began to walk again. I could hear the low babble of water somewhere in the distance, though not far.

“I didn’t realize you had to go all the way to France to do that.” It was merely an observation, not a lament that he had to go. Not today, anyway.

“Weel, I’ll be finishing my schooling in the Faculty of Letters. And I still need to take my final exams in Latin and Greek. Then, once that’s done, I’ll go to work for my cousin. He owns a wine business, ‘tis verra successful.” For a moment, he’d looked slightly stressed about his language tests, but it passed and I smiled at him.

“You’re a philosopher, then? Passionate about the humanities?”

His slight blush was endearing and I made sure to squeeze his hand in mine so that he’d know I wasn’t poking fun.

“Aye, but mostly learning and culture, ye ken? I suppose I could have focused more on history, but this was more challenging.”

I hummed in acknowledgment. “Philosophy always is. There’s an endless circle of possibilities, it seems like.” My thumb grazed the bottom of his wrist. “I like that about you, Jamie. We could talk about anything or nothing and it would never matter. I would always be content, I think.”

“I reckon ye mean ye’ll listen to _me_ talk about anythin’ or nothin’ and be content,” he appropriately called me out, and it was my turn to blush.

“I haven’t made it a very good secret then? How much I like listening to you?”

He laughed under his breath as he led me through a denser part of the woods by the hand. “Let’s see, Sassenach. Ye let me go on all the way to the Loch in the truck. And at the Loch, ye let me continue on. Then, ye had me singin’ all the way home. And now, _mo nighean donn_ , as I try to learn more about you, ye change the subject right back to me. So. Aye, I ken how much ye like to hear me speak.”

There was good humor in his eyes before he looked back at the brush and finally pushed away thick leaves to reveal a river, lazily winding and coursing its way through the forest.

“Do you mind it?” I asked distractedly, trying to take in the beautiful scenery as well.

“Nah, dinna fash. But I do want to ken more about ye at some point,” he requested.

It was a simple ask and not one that should have given me so much pause, which I hid behind the act of smoothing out my trousers and sitting down on the bank of the river. Finally, I told him the only thing I could think of: the truth.

“No one’s ever asked before.”

As he sat beside me, Jamie visibly wavered, then finished lowering himself to the ground. “What do ye mean? No one asks after ye?”

Looking at him as though I might’ve admitted something abnormal, I shook my head. “I mean, there’s Lamb, of course.” I then explained to him what it was like, moving constantly and paying for fun and travel with the lack of companions.

“Then I want ye to tell me everything,” he decided as he leaned back on his hands and looked at me. “Everythin’ ye’ve ever wanted to tell a person, all the things ye’ve been burstin’ to get out.”

I snickered a bit, assuming he was being facetious, until I realized he was looking right at me, serious. “You want me to tell you everything, right here and now?”

“Och, nae, Sassenach. I mean to say ye never have to hold anythin’ back again. I’ll listen, always. I want to hear, and I want to ken what’s happening in that pretty heid of yers.” He reached out to push an errant curl from my forehead and I felt my heart pause for a moment when he next spoke.

“Do ye no’ realize I care about what ye think and dream and want?”

It wasn’t really that no one had ever cared before, but to hear Jamie say it — to hear anyone other than my Uncle express real enthusiasm to learn my opinions on things — made a lump form momentarily in the back of my throat before I managed to swallow it down. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I leaned my body into his and melted into his embrace as an arm wound around my shoulders.

“I’d never thought about it before. What it would be like to tell someone everything. Anything.” I paused, waiting as if something would suddenly come to me, a flood of stories bursting to tell. Nothing floated to the front of my memory, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“If I ask ye something, would ye be willing to give me an honest answer now?” he wondered, and I nodded.

“I’ll always be honest with you, Jamie,” I ensured, pulling back only enough to tilt my head up and look at him.

“And I, you,” he promised in return before dropping a kiss to the top of my head. I’d nearly forgotten about the question until he finally spoke it some minutes later.

“Do you ever wish ye’d had a simpler life? Something where ye would have been in one place, always. Like me, here,” he went on to explain unnecessarily.

I blinked at him owlishly, trying to understand how someone I’d only known a few weeks was already so adept at navigating the unspoken things in my mind. Idly, I wondered if he somehow knew what I was thinking.

“I’m not sure,” I finally responded carefully. “I never understood what I was missing. Now, I do.” I paused and let my fingers wander up his arm, playing with the fine hairs there. “I think more about what my future might be like now.”

I knew what that statement would bring, and I held my breath waiting for it.

“What do ye think then?” he wondered softly into my curls. “Do ye ever want a permanent home?”

This felt like too much and yet a natural thing to talk about all at once. Whatever I conjured in my mind, already I couldn’t picture doing it without Jamie. “I know I want to do everything we’ve already spoken of. Nurse, where I can, where I’m needed, as we travel. But after that, I don’t know what _home_ looks like.”

I could feel the tip of his nose nuzzle against my temple before he finally cleared his throat. There was a slight give in his embrace, as if preparing to let me go should what he say next offend me. His body was tense with words unspoken, and I raised his hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. If I could be honest with him, I needed him to know he could do the same.

He relaxed again, then mimicked my gesture of affection before speaking against my ear.

“I could be your home, Sassenach.”

It took me seconds to piece together what he meant, but he’d already clarified by the time I was ready to open my mouth. “Lallybroch. We could do all our travels, ye could nurse, and I could find handiwork, I’m sure. But eventually, someday, we could come back here. ‘Tis my home by right to be passed along to me.”

All the work Jamie’d done on his family’s land hadn’t been completed for him to simply walk away from it once he was old enough. We’d spoken about his plan to return one day and run the farm, as had been done for generations back in his family.

“Me, a farmer’s wife?” I asked, not with dismay, although my tone might have made it seem that way.

“I ken it’s no’ travelin’ the world—”

I realized my mistake as he prepared an apology, and I turned in his arms, repositioning myself so that I could face him.

“No, it isn’t traveling the world, Jamie.”

“It isna exciting, either,” he admitted, fingers drifting yet again to my hair. It was almost as if my curls and his fingertips had a mutual agreement.

“Maybe not,” I allowed, tipping my head to the side delicately. “You know what the rest of the world doesn’t have, though?”

I watched him attempt to puzzle it out, clearly trying to think of a good answer before I smiled and relieved him of his task. Leaning forward just enough, I cradled his face with my hands to nuzzle his nose with the tip of mine.

“The rest of the world doesn’t have you, James Fraser.”

I could feel his entire body sag with relief in the same instant his smile blossomed beside mine. “It wouldna be too boring for ye here?”

I did truly consider his question, only I’d done so nights ago while lying in bed, drifting to fantasies of sitting on the steps of his home, watching him walk up the path. Only it would be _our_ home by then.

“It wouldn’t be boring. There are plenty of people living even further out than Lallybroch, away from Inverness. I know how to drive, or even ride a horse that far when the weather’s reasonable. I’ll be able to tend to them, and in my spare time, help you. I can think of a thousand words for it, but ‘boring’ isn’t one of them.”

Jamie’s lips grazed mine, tongue coming out to wet his lips before speaking. “If ye give me a thousand words, I’ll give ye a thousand kisses.”

It was a challenge I gladly accepted and laughed, pressing a word to his ear. “Amazing.”

He didn’t miss a beat, dropping a kiss to the corner of my mouth; but he lingered, not pulling away when my next breath fell against his lips. “Tranquil.”

Jamie drank up the word with his next kiss, and as I continued to spill words into the air ( _challenging, rewarding, lovely, blissful_ ), his mouth found my neck. Fingers tugged at my dress so he could kiss my bare collar bone before he ducked across my chest, pressing a kiss over my heart and winding up with his lips firmly against mine once more. I was panting by the time my mouth crashed into his, and my hands found their way to his hair before gasping for breath.

I could feel his palms, warm on my lower back, even through the fabric of my dress. Once I could breathe, I allowed my lips to ghost against his once more.

“May I give another thousand words for another thousand kisses?” I asked sweetly, pressing one of my own to the tip of his nose. Never mind that I haven’t even gotten through ten before.

He was already busy pressing a kiss to the curve of my still-covered breast, a gesture that caused a shiver, making my back arch. 

“Aye. I’ll kiss ye forever,” he promised, before going back to doing just that. No additional words required.

I wasn’t sure who began rocking their hips first, but I dimly became aware of it as his fingers gripped my hips with enough pressure for me to notice. I continued kissing him the best I could, even as my breath shallowed.

“Sassenach,” he growled out, the sound making my stomach twist itself into a knot of wanting to ride him straight into the ground.

“Don’t stop,” I spoke in response to a question he hadn’t asked. His groan came on the heels of my hips rolling with intent against his. Jamie’s mouth captured my breathy sigh as eager hands dragged down my sides, aiming toward the hem of my skirt to dive under.

Neither one of us heard the leaves part behind Jamie.

“Is this what ye two are always doin’ off in the stables together?”

I’d never been so startled in my life, and before I could think about it much, I’d flung myself out of Jamie’s lap and to the side. As soon as I was free of him, Jamie stood, his kilt hiding the evidence of what I’d felt pressing against my inner thigh seconds ago.

“ _Janet_! What in Christ's name are ye doin’ so far out alone?”

“I was tracking _you_ , brother. Is this why ye asked me to take care of your duties today, so ye could _pòg_ an English woman?”

I had no idea what ‘pog’ was, but even so, my cheeks flushed and I let Jamie do the talking, at a loss.

“Ye _followed_ me? All for chores? And why do ye care who I kiss?”

“Because ever since she’s arrived, ye’ve hardly had time to do anythin’ fully correct. I came here tae tell ye that you’re no’ too old for father to tan your hide, so from now on, I suggest ye do your own chores.”

Finally, Jenny’s gaze turned toward me and I straightened my back a bit. “At least if ye’re to be his shadow and follow him around ye could _help_.” As she turned to go, she called over her shoulder. “I’m warnin’ ye, Jamie. I have to take over all ye do come end of summer, but I willna begin doing it any earlier.”

Once she was gone, I let out a breath and looked up at Jamie. “You’ve been ignoring your duties for me?”

He was still standing and looked down at me, hands on his hips. “I still do them, just—”

“Not as well as you usually do,” I guessed, knowing I was correct based on what Jenny’d said. “We have time, Jamie.”

“No’ a lot of it before I leave. And ye start nursing school not long after I go,” he griped before reaching out to help me stand.

Holding onto his hands even after I was on my feet, I looked at him earnestly. “Four more years, Jamie. And two of those years, you’ll be able to come see me if you’d like, any time you want,” I assured him with a kiss. “You could help me study,” I suggested with a sweet smile. “You should do _all_ of your work here, Jamie. We’ll have time.”

I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, but I knew he’d ultimately regret it if he let his work slide to the point of being noticeably shoddy.

“Aye, I ken you’re right,” he acknowledged, kissing my knuckles. “Still. Will ye meet me here tonight?”

I smiled in confusion at him. “Tonight?”

“Back in this spot, after midnight. Everyone will be asleep, Sassenach, and out here, we’ll be alone.”

Now, I swallowed as my mouth went dry and found myself nodding, even as he leaned in to press one more request to my ear. Whatever he had to say, I was helpless to agree in advance.

“Bring your bathin’ suit.”


	5. First Taste of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire meets Jamie at the river.

I didn’t have a bathing suit.

As I made my way back to the river, walking with night sounds as my accompaniment, I regretted not finding Jenny directly after supper. I could have asked her to borrow something, perhaps, but then, what could I have possibly said? _It’s for something later, I don’t know_ exactly _when I’ll be at a beach, but please, may we discuss it right now for no reason in particular?_ I was on my own and let out a breath into the still incredibly warm night air, pushing that last heavy bit of foliage aside before it gave way to the river.

Jamie was already there, floating on his back in the water; the moon was full and bright, and it seemed to make his skin glow against the gently flowing current.

“I could hear ye comin’ from yards away, did ye no’ ever _sneak_ anywhere before, Sassenach?”

Smirking, I made my way closer and appreciated the way his bathing suit fell just below his navel. “I didn’t want any sort of animal attacking me in the night,” I protested. “You left me to walk out here all on my own, after all.”

“Aye, I did. I thought it would be more romantic this way,” he admitted with a shrug. “Meetin’ all clandestine and such.”

I smiled crookedly at him, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.” Though, to hear him say he wanted to be _romantic_ made my cheeks heat a bit.

“And I canna help but notice you’re verra over-dressed. Ye dinna want to swim?” he asked, looking more than a little crestfallen.

“I forgot to pack a bathing suit. And I wasn’t sure how to ask your sister for something to wear to a _secret_ meeting,” I pointed out. “Don’t be disappointed, I’ll go into town tomorrow and buy one.”

Jamie lost the downturn to his lips and swam closer to where I was sitting on the riverbank. “You could wear my shirt, I wouldna mind. And my bottoms, if ye’d like. I’ll stay under the water, and ye’ll be covered.”

I glanced at his shirt, draped over a branch, then looked back at him. “You’d swim naked, is what you’re saying?” I prompted with an arch of my eyebrow. 

“Weel--” He cleared his throat and I was almost positive that if it hadn’t been quite so dark, I’d have seen him blush, too. “I dinna want to make ye uncomfortable, Sassenach. I’ll leave it to you.”

He rose to his full height in order to kiss me, water freely flowing down his body. It took one press of my hand to his bare side to know exactly how comfortable I was.

“You could remove your trunks, that’s true,” I began as one finger dragged down the center of his chest; a touch for touching’s sake. “But I don’t think I’ll wear them.”

His own fingers were trailing up and down my arm, watching as rivulets of water from his fingertips ran across my wrist. “As long as ye feel comfortable in just the shirt then.” Raising his gaze, Jamie looked at me with a bit more seriousness in his eyes. “You’re safe wi’ me, Claire.”

Leaning over a little, I cupped his face in my hands. “I know. That’s why you should remove your bathing shorts and I’ll remove clothing.”

I watched his eyes change as what I said processed and he focused intently on me.

“Ye would swim...wi’ out all yer clothing?” He swallowed, and I stared as his Adam’s apple bobbed with the movement.

“I would. If you will,” I countered, finally moving out of his reach and pulling off my shoes. Tugging away my stockings, I stood, bare toes digging into the soft mud. I was nervous, feeling my stomach tightening with anxiety as I watched his face. He was weighing the options in his mind, I knew, but after a solid minute of thinking, he ducked back down into the water. His next movement had him tossing soggy shorts up onto the grass, and I couldn’t help grinning at him.

That was decided, then, and I took a deep breath before tugging my shirt up and off, dropping it behind me. I was afraid if I met his eyes — if I looked at how intently he was staring at me — I might lose my nerve, so I quickly unclasped my bra before removing the rest of my clothing and lowering myself into the water. We floated around one another for a moment, until I broke the spell and dunked myself under. The water wasn’t freezing, but it felt blessedly cool against overheated skin. When I came back up, my hands pushed hair out of my eyes in order to find him, smiling lazily.

“Who taught you to swim?” I asked curiously, my body covered, for now, by water as I sank down to my shoulders.

“My da, brought all three of us out one afternoon, me, my sister, and Willie. Taught us all at the same time, said we were all old enough,” he explained with so much fondness. I enjoyed that it was a good memory for him, that I hadn’t inadvertently brought up something that would make him sad or cause grief.

“I can’t remember anyone actually teaching me,” I offered in reply. “I remember being in Rosetta and swimming in the Nile, once. Maybe I was eight or nine? I don’t remember swimming before that, but I must have. Someone had to have taught me.”

“Perhaps there’s a period of time ye were no’ rememberin’ things correctly.” Now, he paused, and I watched his face as he looked for the right words.

“After my mam died, I canna remember all the things that happened directly after. I dinna even really remember the moments surrounding Willie’s death. Maybe...maybe for you, it had to go that way for a while after the death of your parents,” he supplied softly. He also swam closer, to offer comfort if I needed it.

“That’s possible,” I allowed, letting him reach out and push hair back behind my ears. “For whatever reason, I suppose that age is around the time I can truly remember even small, minute details. The rest before that is fragmented, almost. Broken into bits and pieces I remember randomly.” As I spoke, our bodies had somehow gravitated together and my arms had wound around his neck.

“I didna mean to make ye sad, if I did,” he spoke quietly, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Funny. I was worried about the same thing. But I like talking to you. I feel as though I can tell you anything, Jamie. I could tell you everything, and it would be safe.”

I felt him move and a firm kiss pressed to my forehead. “Because it would be, Sassenach. Just as I ken my own musings stay between us.”

“I trust you,” I clarified, pulling back just enough to look at him.

For a moment, the night around us seemed still, waiting on the pair of us to either kiss or keep confessing things quietly. I felt his hands move to my bare back, one hand above the other against my spine.

“Do ye trust that I would protect ye, Claire?” he asked before dropping soft kisses against the side of my neck. They weren’t insistent upon anything, they were merely soft, tender pecks.

One of my hands rested in his curls, cradling the back of his head. “Yes,” I murmured, tilting my head, inviting _more_. And it was true, I did. I wasn’t sure what he would ever need to shield me from, but I believed he would without question. As his lips began writing a poem across my shoulder, I let my hands wander down the smooth expanse of his back. Idly, my fingers drew loopy figure eights around freckles I knew were there due to my copious amount of time lazing around, watching him work shirtless in the heat.

“Your skin is so soft, Sassenach. Wi’ no’ a blemish on it to speak of.” His lips stopped at my throat, causing my head to tip back and my hair to unfurl in the water behind me.

“Ye look like a vision,” he all but sighed, trailing his kisses down the center of my chest slowly. He was careful, and rather than turn to kiss where my flesh yielded and curved into soft roundness, he raised his head and nuzzled his nose along the side of my own before I couldn’t stand it any longer. I tipped my head, finding and capturing his mouth in a hard, desperate kiss that I whimpered into.

Jamie kissed me as though both of our lives depended on it, his tongue lazily seeking permission to kiss me deeper. Granting what he wanted, it was his turn to groan, pulling me out of whatever lust-filled haze I was in. I could feel him, pressing bare and warm against my leg, though he called no attention to himself. We were simply kissing as his hands moved down, over the curve of my backside, and lifted.

Taken by surprise, my arms and legs wound around him, supported fully by Jamie in the water.

“Claire, I dinna—” he swallowed so hard I could hear it, and I fused my lips to his again in part to reavow my promise that he could tell me anything, and partly because it felt as though too many moments had passed since my lips were pressing against his. He kissed me back with just as much want and need until he seemed to forcibly pull his mouth from mine.

“What is it?” I was panting and hardly recognized my own voice.

It took a moment for him to form words after breathing heavily for a few seconds. When he did, he spoke quietly, forehead pressing to mine.

“‘Tis only that I want ye verra badly, and before I get carried away, I thought I should give ye time to have an opinion on it, yourself.”

I felt slow to process his meaning, but when it finally sank in, I realized I’d been shamelessly pressing myself to his thigh without even realizing. Pulling back, my cheeks flushed and I cleared my throat, floating free of him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—that was—” I struggled to find the word. Was it _rude_?

He hushed me before I could say anything else, reaching out for my hand to slowly pull me back. “I’m no’ looking for an apology. It’s why I stopped, why I’ll ask. Do you wish to go any further, Sassenach?”

The ball was in my court, and when I looked up at him, I knew that more than anything, I didn’t want to disappoint him. “I’m—this is, good, Jamie.” I held his gaze this time, waiting for his own to fall away at my words. “I like this, but more? Not here, I think. Not right _now_.” Not for our first time together, I meant.

If I thought he’d look any sort of disappointed, I was wrong. Instead, he smiled just a little and tangled our fingers together. “This is all it needs to be for now,” he promised, and I felt myself move closer again in relief, head resting against his shoulder. I was quiet as we floated, both of us tracing idle patterns on the other’s back until I finally had an idea.

“What if I wanted you to touch me?”

For a moment he stilled, then carefully pulled back his head just enough to look directly at me.

“Touch ye?”

His voice sounded a little strained and I tugged him down to kiss his lips. “Touch me, Jamie.”

My request was swiftly put into action as his hands pulled me closer again, and I had no choice but to press against him from chest to hips. He was still there ( _he felt impressive, Christ_ ) and I let my next words fall against his clavicle where my lips brushed his skin.

“What about you?”

As one of his hands ghosted across my inner thigh, I held my breath in anticipation, but he waited, hesitating. “Ye dinna need to do that, Sassenach.”

Trying to meet his eyes, I ducked my head and then tilted his chin up with the tips of my fingers. “I know I dinna _need_ , to. But I want to. I want to know you. _All_ of you.” Experimentally, my fingers brushed across the tip of him and I felt him jerk, then sag into my arms, melting at just that singular touch.

“Aye. Christ, I want to feel ye and ken what it is to be touched by you, too.” As soon as he was finished speaking, his mouth landed on mine and I felt his thumb drag heavily against me. 

It made my hips jerk to feel _him_ , and I broke our kiss simply to rest my head on his shoulder once more. He’d guided us steadily toward shallower ground, until his back was against a high edge of the riverbank and one of my legs was hooked high around his hip. Like this, I could easily wrap my hand around him and begin a slow stroke up and down the length of him. He was heavy as stone, felt like satin pulled taut, and I felt his knees buckle, just for a second, before he shored himself again.

“Believe me when I tell ye, there’s no’ a touch that’s ever felt this good,” he managed to mumble, his words lost to my curls as his fingers began to move against me.

It wasn’t just his touch that was beginning to unravel me; it was being held safe in strong arms. To not only be vulnerable but for him to be as well. As my hips rocked into his touch, I let my fingers travel up and down a path I wanted to continue, always. A part of me wondered if this was a simple summer fling, something I was used to because I always left. Those, I’d never given everything to. I’d had fun, never regretted any of my choices, but they never knew about my parents, my life, what I wanted. I’d never trusted anyone with those things before, and now Jamie was collecting them all — bits of my heart, piece by piece.

When one finger dipped into me, I sighed into his neck, pressing my lips to his skin on a whimper. I moved my own hand faster, breathing hard, sucking in air that smelled of damp earth and dead leaves, but most overwhelmingly, _Jamie_. He smelled like hay and wood, like smoke and hot sun. I wanted to taste the dip of his shoulder, so I did. My tongue slowly circled his skin and his groan was loud; his touch faltered for a moment.

“ _Mo chridhe_ ,” he uttered, and I thought back to the day he’d told me it meant _my heart_. I’d been in his arms then as well, only up in a hayloft, watching the sunset. His fingers retaliated, curving a second inside of me and gesturing forward. It was a move that made me gasp and jerk, crying out his name into the woods. Now, it was my hand that lost its rhythm but his touch was strong and sure, and each time he pressed into me, his palm did a slow grind against that aching pinprick of need. I squeezed my hand around him but couldn’t _move_ as he didn’t stop, not letting up as my body tightened around his fingers and pleasure surged in my belly.

That was the moment my hand remembered what to do, and I began moving again, this time with intent as I licked his neck again to taste salt. Both of our hips rocked, his free hand keeping me secure. Jamie nosed at my breast, the nipple _just_ under the water. I arched my back a little and his mouth immediately descended, pulling a loud cry once more from me. This time when my body tensed it didn’t let go, and I gripped his hair in my free hand, surrendering myself to the pleasure. 

Dimly, in the back of my mind somewhere, I heard him breathe out my name before spilling against my hip, his head dipping low to tuck against mine. We stood like that, completely wrapped around one another for so long, I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. I could hear frogs and crickets, night birds just waking in the forest. It was Jamie who broke the stillness first, raising his hand from the water and brushing my curls aside to kiss my temple.

“That was—” I swallowed, only because I lost my breath as residual pleasure coursed through me at a stretch of my calves. “That was perfect, Jamie.” I leaned in for a kiss, our tongues lazily gliding over one another.

He pulled back to speak softly. “ _You _were, Sassenach. In every single way a person can be.”__

__As he stroked my cheek, I turned my head toward him again, tipping our lips together in a softer, more chaste kiss. “We should go inside. Before we look like prunes,” I murmured, hating to say it but knowing we couldn’t stay outdoors forever.  
“Aye, I suppose,” Jamie sighed in reply. “I’ll even walk ye back, proper.”_ _

__I nuzzled my nose against his, and after making our way out of the water, we wandered a bit to air dry. Meandering the bank hand in hand, I saw something catch the light of the moon and I squinted._ _

__“What is it, Sassenach?”_ _

__“I see something, just over there,” I explained, pointing even as I marched further up the bank. Kneeling down, I saw what caught the moon’s reflection: strawberries, wet with wayward river water. With a grin, I looked out at how many there were and marveled at the sight. “Did you know these were here?” I asked in wonder._ _

__“No, I’ve never been down this far,” he admitted, kneeling to pick a berry and bite into it. “They’re good, too. Here,” he offered, dropping a small handful of berries into my palm._ _

__He rose with a handful of his own and there the two of us stood, naked in the woods, eating strawberries under a full moon._ _


	6. Sand and Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beach trip.

I had somehow convinced Uncle Lamb I needed to go to Inverness in order to poke about shops, and by the next afternoon, I’d bought a bathing suit that was both tame enough that Lamb didn’t balk, and short enough that it made me blush to think about wearing it for Jamie. It was white, with crisscrossed straps in the back, and didn’t quite fall to mid-thigh; the front was keyholed for a glimpse ( _but not direct viewing_ ) of my chest.

Coy, but not _rude_.

I’d had no idea then that three days later on a hot and lazy Saturday morning, Jamie would be driving me to a loch to swim. Or so I thought; he’d told me to wear my suit under my clothing, so that’s what I’d done. Now, I was sitting in the passenger side of his truck with my feet on the dash, crossed at the ankles, while we rode with the windows down.

“How far is this lake?” I asked as I tried to estimate how long we’d driven. It seemed like at least a half-hour, perhaps more, had passed.

“No’ too far now, Sassenach. I wanted to go out of the way a bit, our first wee trip together,” he explained with a grin that held so much more. He was excited about something, I could tell, but I assumed it was enthusiasm for the day. For a while, I closed my eyes and listened as music filtered through his radio. Jo Stafford sang on about promising to never part on warbly AM waves, and I drifted until Jamie’s hand reached out to brush against my wrist. He didn’t speak at all, and I smiled before turning my head to look at him.

That’s when I noticed ( _through his window first, then mine_ ) that the rolling hills, which had given way to sprawling fields and countryside, were now flat grassland. The further we drove, the shorter the grass grew until there was nothing but sand. In the distance, blue sky melded with the deeper blue of water, and I looked at Jamie again in surprise.

“This is the ocean.”

I heard him snort a little. “Aye, they should give ye a medal for your braw detective work, Sassenach.”

I smacked him lightly against the side of his leg, even while I was unable to take my eyes from the beautiful scenery once the truck finally came to a stop.

“Ye told me the last truly clear memory ye have is of the beach,” I heard him say quietly, and I could feel his eyes trained on my face as I stared, unblinking at the view. I was afraid if I turned to look at him, I would cry. When I said nothing, he continued. “...So, I thought it would be nice to surprise ye and make more memories. New ones, ye ken.”

At his explanation, the lump in my throat only grew and I blinked quickly, but I was still silent.

“Sassenach, if ye’d rather go back, ‘tis no problem, we could stop, eat on the way home,” he offered, and I found myself shaking my head, but I still couldn’t look at him.

“Claire, I’m sorry if I hurt ye.”

His voice was so quiet and gentle, and he sounded so worried, that I finally looked at him and tried desperately to find my voice. “No, Jamie, it’s not--you--” My voice wavered and just before the dam broke, two other words left my mouth. 

“It’s _perfect_.”

I couldn’t pinpoint why, exactly, I was dissolving into tears, but I buried my face in my hands and wept, trying to apologize to him in gasping sobs. I’d never cried like this over my parents, not in at least a decade. I’d lost them so young, and I loved Lamb so completely for the life he gave me, that when I ached for a mother and father both, it was for momentous occasions. For some reason, being at a beach ( _when I’d been to plenty of them before now_ ) because Jamie remembered a half-forgotten memory completely undid me.

I felt rather than saw him move, and without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms and held me as I cried, the embrace warm and protective. Even as I tried to pull myself together, in the back of my mind I noted that we fit this way, as if I were a missing puzzle piece that fit directly into his hold. He whispered to me in a language I knew nothing of, but his words settled over me anyway, like a warm blanket wrapping around my heart, determined to comfort me. After a few minutes passed, I finally took a deep breath and let it out, wiping at my eyes and sniffling.

“I didn’t mean to cry like that. I’m not even sure why I did, it was just--this is so wonderful, Jamie,” I babbled, blinking quickly to not cry again. “I think this is the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Jamie’s smile was understanding and soft, though it seemed his eyes were tinged with a bit of sadness at my words. “Ye should have someone who wants to do kind things for you every day, Sassenach.”

Reaching out, I let my fingers thread with his.

“I do.”

We stayed like that for another five minutes or so, until the unmoving air inside the truck felt stifling and we clambered out, walking down to the beach with towels draped over my arm and shoes dangling from my fingertips. Once a spot was selected, Jamie trudged off to rent an umbrella while I spread out towels side by side and finally removed my summer dress to reveal my swimsuit. By the time Jamie returned, all evidence that I’d ever had a meltdown was gone; in its place, a serene smile touched my lips as I laid in the sun. When a shadow blocked the heat building on my skin, I squinted up at him while shielding my eyes until our shade was firmly in place. Like this —me, flat on my back and a giant Scot towering over me — I felt impossibly small, but I grinned. “You look a hundred feet tall from down here,” I hummed merrily, shifting as he lumbered down beside me and fell to his side, propped on an elbow to face me.

“Maybe I’m a giant, Sassenach.” His finger reached out to lightly drag across my shoulder.

“You _are_. I haven’t met a single other Scot as tall as you.” Reaching out, the backs of my fingers lightly dragged across his cheek. “It’s all that Viking blood.”

He parroted the word _viking_ back to me, and I felt the low vibration of it as he somehow managed to roll the ‘v’ against my lips. Then, he pulled back to appraise me in my bathing suit. Feeling myself blush under his gaze, I delicately cleared my throat. “Do you like it?”

My voice seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and he blinked owlishly at me. “‘Tis a verra fine suit, Sassenach.” Even as he spoke, his fingers seemed drawn to the keyhole, my breath catching as he touched what curved flesh he could see. “Verra bawdy of ye, Claire.” His words sounded serious, but I could see the way he tried to duck his head and hide a smile.

“ _Bawdy_! I’ll have you know I’m considered _quite_ respectable.”

“No’ by anyone who’s seen ye in a bathin’ suit.”

I laughed loudly and shoved at his chest. When his laughter joined mine, I basked in the harmony of it before repositioning myself so that my head laid on his shoulder. “Really though, is it too much?”

Raising his head, I felt him land a kiss in my hair before he laid back again. “Nah. I reckon it’s exactly enough.” Idly, I wondered if he knew I picked it with him in mind and smiled to myself.

We looked up at the clouds for a while, picking out shapes. What I thought a dragon, he thought a camel. When I told him he was ridiculous, he kissed me hard and with a wet smack before calling me a wee snot. He made me laugh, and I him, in return. _This is what it’s supposed to be_ I thought to myself. As we lapsed into quiet comfort to listen to the sounds around us ( _the waves, children shrieking, random bursts of cheers, hooting and hollering_ ), I let myself reminisce about past romantic interludes. Not to dwell on a specific person, but on the moments. Surely there were things that’d made me interested; common interests, usually, or perhaps alcohol had been the only common denominator. Either way, I couldn’t remember a time I’d felt wholly wanted. Part of it was my own fault, I knew. I had a tendency to not attach myself to people or places because I never stayed long, but Jamie was different from the moment we first spoke. He made me ache to see him again the moment we parted, and when we were together, it was as if a flame always stayed alight somewhere in the very core of who I was; a beacon, calling him home.

Lazily, I slapped my hand toward my bag, pushed his discarded shirt out of the way, and pulled out a well-worn copy of _Around the World in 80 Days_. Opening it to where we’d left off ( _A new pastime while he ate lunch had been to read in the hayloft. Our feet always dangled lazily as he munched on food, I read, and he shared slices of an apple with me._ ), my voice began to relive the adventures of Phileas Fogg. When I was done with my chapter of reading, Jamie and I traded, going back and forth. After his chapter ( _and as he handed the book back to me_ ), he spoke.

“Soon enough, we’ll be the world travelers, Sassenach,” he mused aloud.

“And we’ll have much longer than 80 days. Although, we could go to more than one place in about...what, two and a half months? Depending on how long we stayed in one location.” I tilted my head up to peek up at him. “What were you thinking in that regard?” I couldn’t keep the enthusiasm out of my voice, letting the book rest on my stomach.

Jamie made a contemplative sound in the back of his throat before answering. “Long enough to feel as though we immersed ourselves as deeply as we could. Three weeks? Even a month, perhaps.”

“That might feel nearly like what my life has been so far,” I told him with a soft, fond smile. “We stayed quite a bit longer, of course, sometimes over a year when sites were rife with artifacts.” I reached to pick up the book again. “Imagine reading this on a beach in Greece.”

“We have tae read Greek myths on a Grecian beach, Sassenach,” he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes fondly at him and already thought the story of Persephone, Queen of the Underworld and Goddess of the harvest, would be perfect. My attention returned to the book and I began reading, my voice soft between us; it told a story only for our ears, my cadence lazy as the sun made me feel slow-paced and leisurely.

“ _Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and freshness_ ,” I read, and was suddenly aware of the tip of Jamie’s finger ghosting across the apple of my cheek. I didn’t stop reading, continuing as he kept his hand close.

“ _Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama, the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest reflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes._ ” This time as I read, his finger lightly glided across my eyebrows, then dragged down the bridge of my nose so that I had to stop reading.

“May I help you?”

His smile was just as lazy as my reading. “Keep goin,” he encouraged, dropping his hand again.

I cheated, skimming ahead to see where this was going, to see what he might do next, and the words made me swallow heavily before continuing. “ _Her teeth, fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops in a passion-flower's half-enveloped breast._ ” I knew that something was coming, I simply didn’t know what until he pushed the book down and leaned over me, kissing me slowly at first, then deeper. I was now flat on my back, and while _he_ seemed unbothered about the fact that we were on a very public beach, I weakly pushed at his bicep.

“Jamie, we can’t,” I murmured. Sure enough, a glance to my left and a woman was looking at us in disdain. Giving our fellow beach goer a tight smile, I ( _much as I didn’t want to_ ) pushed Jamie away from me and eyed him. “Behave.”

“No promises,” he warned.

Once he was on his back again, I placed myself once more into his arms and dramatically picked the book back up. I held it with a sense of purpose, lest the annoyed spectator beside us think we were doing anything but reading. “ _Her delicately formed ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the lotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda.”_ One of his fingers lightly traced the shell of my ear, and then, along the hand that rested on my stomach, he dragged the backs of his fingers across mine. He couldn’t reach my feet, and so the exposed curve of my hip had to do. 

I could feel my heart beating a bit faster.

“Turn to face me, Sassenach,” he urged, halfway sitting up himself until I moved. Then, he laid on his side again and I faced him. Propped on one arm, I held the novel in front of me after we’d scooted as close to one another as we could.

“ _Her narrow and supple waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom--”_ My breath hitched as Jamie reached out and dragged a finger from one hipbone across my stomach, doing exactly as the sentence described and cupping my waist. Then, his fingers moved to my breasts, hovering just over a hardened peak. He couldn’t touch me here, not really, but I could feel the very tips of his fingers just barely graze a covered nipple.

It was enough to make me whimper, but I soldiered on. “ _\--where youth in its flower displays the wealth of its treasures; and--_ ” I paused again, then hissed. “ _Jamie_.” The pad of one finger had dragged slowly between my thighs, making me ache at once with want. 

He shook his head. “Dinna stop.”

The warmth that flooded the very core of me must have been noticed by him. He groaned lowly in the back of his throat and briefly cupped his hand to me before pulling back quickly, catching himself.

Breathing heavily, I finished, finally. “ _\--beneath the silken folds of her tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike hand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor_.” Even in that short amount of time, he couldn’t keep his hand from me, gravitating to my breast again, cupping and squeezing briefly.

“We can’t, Jamie, not out here.”

Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and wet his lips. “Who would have kent Jules Verne could inspire a cockstand?”

At that, I laughed so hard that the woman beside us had a completely different reason to be annoyed.

To cool down, I suggested we go swim for a bit. We walked together with our pinkies joined, hands swinging as I looked up at him only to see my grin matched his. Once in the water, we were content to float as we held hands, letting the water gently ebb us close, then float us away until our arms were fully outstretched while holding onto one another. Always, we were brought close to one another again before we were forced to break apart completely.

After we’d had our fill of the water and the sun dried us thoroughly again, I slipped my dress back on before Jamie led us back to the truck, and I assumed we would simply go back to Lallybroch. Instead, he drove us into the nearby sleepy beachside town, and we stopped in a pub to have a late lunch and a pint. Then, we moseyed through the quaint area, leaving our transportation behind and exploring the various shops. In one, I bought a floppy straw hat ( _”To wear when I watch you work outside,” I’d said._ ), and in another, we separated to browse. It was an antique store, full of old things that had been deemed old enough to sell at very expensive prices. Still, as I looked, I was struck by a blue vase sitting on a glass shelf. It was beautiful but nothing wildly unique; it was a simple vase, but I wondered what it would be like to be so sure I wasn’t packing up and moving on that I could buy _home decor_.

“Do ye like it?” came Jamie’s voice behind me. Rather than startle, I leaned back and into his arms as he rested his chin on my shoulder.

“I don’t know. I don’t _dislike_ it. It’s only that I’m realizing I don’t know what it’s like to have one place you fill with all of your things. And then, no matter where you go, you return _home_.”

Quiet for a moment, Jamie turned me so that I was forced to look up at him.

“I’ve decided, Sassenach, that home doesn’t need to be a place. As long as I’m wi’ ye, I’ll be home.” He was serious and reached out, twisting a sand-crusted curl in his fingers. He was impossibly sweet, and I melted into a kiss with him until the proprietor cleared his throat. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed he shot a wink at Jamie as we left the store.

“Are ye ready for the last place on our tour?” he asked me, raising my hand to his lips in a soft kiss.

“Oh, aye,” I replied with excitement before he pointed across the street. There was a storefront with the words _Confectionery & Ice Cream Parlor_ painted in gold on the window, outlined in white. More from my past, more new memories to make, and I squeezed his hand in mine as I looked up at him. Right then, something swelled in my heart nearly to bursting, and I ached to hold him close. It was something I’d never felt before and I wanted to lean into it, to give in and sink into what bliss would be like with him.

“Come, Sassenach. We’ll buy some candy, have an ice cream, and then be on our way home. We’ll be there just in time for supper.” He did give me a sweet kiss on the forehead, finally remembering to keep it tame.

I let Jamie pick candy for me, unfamiliar with traditional Scottish treats. He picked something called _taiblet_ which he said was a type of candy made from condensed milk, sugar, and butter, then flavored with whiskey. When I took a bite, it was a bit like fudge or even brittle, melting in my mouth. After bagging a few more things ( _Edinburgh rock and Tunnock’s sweets_ ), we went to the counter and paid for not only our candy, but two ice cream cones as well. His flavor of choice was a chocolate-vanilla combination, mine a scoop each of strawberry and vanilla. We walked slowly back to the truck together as we ate our ice cream, unhurried. I felt warm but carefree and light, so pleased with the day that I might as well have been floating. We couldn’t hold hands due to shopping bags and dessert, but every now and then we swayed into one another and lightly bumped shoulders.

Finally in the truck again, I leaned over to give Jamie a deep, soulful kiss full of gratitude — and hints of more —before pulling back. When I looked at him, I _knew_ he saw me. He could see every part of me down to my marrow, and it terrified me, made me breathless in an incredible way that let me know being with him was absolutely right. “Thank you. For today, for all of it. This was _perfect_. It was more than perfect, really. I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

He reached out and cupped my face. “Ye’ll have tae get used to it eventually, aye?”

I couldn’t even answer him without being worried my voice might break, so I nodded and leaned forward so that he might kiss my forehead. He obliged without missing a beat, and then I settled into my seat again. As he drove, I let my mind wander, closing my eyes as I thought of each place Jamie and I might go one day. After Greece, I wanted to show him my favorite places in Cairo, then go with him to the mountains of Colorado to trade scorching heat for winter relief.

The next thing I found myself aware of was the passenger side door opening and Jamie lightly moving his fingers through my hair. Opening my eyes, I turned my head to look at him, blinking. As my mind cleared, I realized we were back at Lallybroch already and I let out a huff of a laugh. “I fell asleep.”

“Aye, ye did. But now I ken ye dinna snore, at least,” he teased, helping me out of the truck. Soon, though, he had me pressed to his side gently with his hands on my hips. “After supper, Sassenach, meet me near the strawberries?” he requested against the curve of my jaw while thumbs slowly rubbed circles against my skin through the dress.

My belly tightened in anticipation at the mere thought of what we’d do on the riverbank as night swelled around us, and I nodded in agreement.

I wanted to scream when the night didn’t go at all the way we’d hoped. Jamie’d been able to get out of post-supper conversation easily enough, but Lamb specifically asked me to sit and discuss one of the many battles between the Scots and Norwegians in the thirteenth century. I looked helplessly at Jamie, but he smiled in understanding, explaining that he would be off reading for the rest of the evening. It was a way to know I could come to him when I was done, and we’d go to the river together. My attention was completely unfocused, but even while giving a lackluster showing of conversational skills, Lamb kept me occupied until the rest of the house had gone quiet and still around us. It wasn’t until the clock struck eleven P.M. that I realized how late it was.

Yawning and stretching, I feigned exhaustion ( _it wasn’t a full-blown lie; I was tired from the sun and water all day--not tired enough to forget about the promise of more tonight_ ) at the late hour and dismissed myself with a kiss to my uncle’s cheek. Knowing Jamie had planned to lay in bed, I glanced at his door once I was upstairs and realized the light wasn’t shining under the crack. Deflated and disappointed we’d have to wait another full day, I went to my room and bathed the beach away in the adjacent bathroom before changing into a nightgown and crawling into bed. Disappointed as I was, my mind still wandered in the dark, thinking of the way he’d seemed unable to resist reaching out to touch my curves. His hands seemed to want to write sonnets and blaze fires across my skin at the same time, and I wanted to let him do it freely.

It wasn’t _only_ thoughts that wandered as a hand slipped beneath the bedsheets and pushed my nightgown up, shifting to glide my fingers across coarse curls. It wasn’t going to be what I truly wanted, and with an exhale of frustration, I sat up in bed and weighed the odds that Jamie was still awake. At worst, he was already asleep and wouldn’t hear my knock. 

Slipping out of bed, I quietly opened my door before walking two rooms down the hall and lightly rapping against the wooden barrier between us. It was so light I was sure there was no way he could have heard it, and held my breath in anticipation. I could still feel the way his hand cupped and fit so perfectly between my thighs, and I could still feel the way his gaze had burned straight into me when he realized I could undo him with words alone.

That was the same gaze that greeted me when the door opened; no one else would bother him so late. For a moment we merely stared at one another; and for my part at least, I was already picturing him naked, clothes discarded on the floor. 

Reaching out, he offered to let me in.

With a shy smile, I took his hand and stepped into his room, closing the door quietly behind me.


	7. Hot July Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hot July moon saw _everything_.

Jamie and I stood facing one another, and if he could tell that my heart was racing, he said nothing of it. There was a soft, ethereal glow in the room from a lamp; not bright enough to reach the shadows near the door. I took him in, clad in loose sleeping pants that slung low on his hips. I could just see faint wisps of tawny hair below his navel because he was shirtless; I was powerless to stop my gaze from slowly drifting upward, taking him in.

“You weren’t asleep,” I offered somewhat dumbly, wetting my lips, unsure of where to start. I wasn’t a virgin by any means, but being this close to Jamie, knowing what we both wanted, made it feel _new_ , somehow. It was almost as if my body had forgotten what to do and how to move.

Luckily, Jamie had no such issue.

Stepping forward, he moved until my back pressed to the door and one hand pressed to the wood beside me. Ducking his head, he spoke right against my ear, my heart giving one good _slam_ against my ribcage.

“No. I wasna asleep, Claire.” His head dipped, lips pressing to the curve of my neck. The gesture made my eyes close and my knees buckle a bit, but his body against mine and the solid surface against my back held me upright.

“I was waitin’ for ye and cursin’ your uncle while I tried no’ to lose my mind wi’ want,” he murmured.

I tilted my head to the side, encouraging more of his mouth on my skin. “It was all quite fascinating, you know,” I breathed out, a faint smile making my lips curve upward. “Bloody, sordid history.”

He made a sound deep in the back of his throat as he kissed the rounded smoothness of skin that curved around my clavicle. “Sounds verra educational, Sassenach. Do ye want to go back to it?”

I pulled back so that he could see my eyes, wanting him to see for himself all of the want reflecting back at him. “I want _you_ , Jamie.” Closing the distance between us, I captured his lips with my own, our kiss deep and bruising. All of our pent up urgency from the beach poured out of us, fueling the way his hands grasped at my nightgown before giving up and sliding his hands around my backside. When he lifted upward, my legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, confident in his arms carrying me as we stepped away from the door.

Laying me along his bed, he stood between my thighs, my legs still locked around him. “When I saw ye on the beach, _a nighean_ , in that bathing suit, I couldna return to ye right away.” Now his hands continued their previous job of pushing up my nightgown until it was over my head and discarded near the end of the mattress. I was bare-chested, but not completely bared to him yet. 

“Why?” I panted, the cradle of my thighs curved perfectly to the weight of him straining toward me, and he leaned down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. His mouth sealed to mine, stealing my breath, making me yank away the moment I thought I might pass out. Once he broke the kiss, he spoke in halting words. 

“I could see every curve of ye, and no’ enough.” With new urgency, his hands traveled up and down my sides as I took my turn to travel his neck and throat with my lips. My nose grazed his jaw, the trimmed stubble perfectly rough against my skin.

Hefting my way further onto the bed, Jamie followed my lead and stretched out over me properly now, letting some of his weight settle comfortably on top of me. For what felt like hours, we only kissed. Our tongues were already well acquainted, falling with familiar strokes over one another. When he pulled back, he kissed his way down the center of my chest before detouring to my left breast. He nuzzled, then circled the pebbled, blush-colored edges of a nipple with only the tip of his tongue. That tease was enough for my hand to restlessly tangle in his curls, though I was able to stop short of begging, his mouth finally enveloping my skin.

Whimpering, my back arched into his mouth, a shuddering breath spilling from my lips as his tongue fully circled a peak, making my breast ache with pleasure that built between my thighs. He switched, giving both nipples equal, agonizing attention before his mouth blazed a path directly down the middle of my body. I realized where he was going and froze, just for a moment, before moving my hands to his shoulders.

“Wait, Jamie,” I managed, wetting my lips.

Raising his head, he looked at me, eyes already a dark, stormy blue of arousal. “Are ye alright?” he asked, pressing a kiss to my hip.

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “But I--” Clearing my throat, I shifted a little. “No one’s done _that_ before. This. What you’re about to do.” My cheeks felt hot as the sun and I closed my eyes self-consciously. For a moment, the silence made me want to sink directly into the floor, but then I felt him move, delicately balancing over me and bending to kiss each closed eyelid. When I opened them, he kissed the tip of my nose.

“We dinna need to do anything you’re no’ ready for. Ye ken that,” he reminded me gently, and I nodded.

“I do know, Jamie, and I didn’t--I’m ready. I just wanted _you_ to know.”

Smiling at me with warmth and affection, he brushed his lips over mine. “Then I suppose now is the time to tell ye I’ve never done _this_ before either. This part, I mean.”

Raising my head in shock, I gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged, seemingly not as nervous about giving it his first attempt as I was. “It was never something I wanted to do before.”

I couldn’t help my curiosity, laying my head back down to gaze up at him. “What’s so different now?”

Jamie chuckled as he made his way eagerly down my body, settling comfortably between my thighs. “‘Tis _you_ now, _mo nighean donn_. And I intend to serve every part of ye well.” He kissed the soft, sloping mound just below my belly before sinking a bit lower to kiss my inner thighs. “What I dinna ken, ye’ll teach me.”

That was that as he hiked my legs over his shoulders and parted me with his fingers. I hardly had any time to wonder about taste and smell and pleasure before his tongue zeroed in on round, eager nerves first. It was truly a feat of self-control to not cry out; only a brief moment of clarity — and knowing Lamb was right down the hall — kept me from doing just that. Reaching for bedding, I clung to it tightly with one fist and kept a hand at the back of Jamie’s head for now as well. His tongue traveled along the dips and valleys of my sex, finding places even I’d yet to discover made my vision spark.

My belly tightened and rolled as his tongue experimentally dipped into me and I could feel the vibration of a well-pleased hum. He was hungry and eager, his mouth tasting as if he’d been in a desert with no water and I was his relief. I was only aware that his fingers had been digging into my hips when there was a sudden absence of them on one side of my body. That hand moved just below his chin, and I gasped as one finger, and then another, slowly filled and stretched. His hand knew what to do well, and my teeth came down on my bottom lip in an attempt to dampen the sound of another cry. Unable to keep my hands still, they both roamed feverishly up and down his arms, my fingers curling around his shoulders intermittently. 

Raising his head to catch his breath for a moment, he kissed my belly as his fingers moved faster and his thumb circled and rubbed, driving my pleasure ever higher I could feel it, the way every muscle was beginning to tighten and pull, and just as my thighs tensed, his head lowered so that his lips could wrap around pulsing heat and _suck_.

Everything inside of my body seemed to hurtle skyward as I shattered, my mouth falling open in a ( _thankfully silent_ ) cry while pleasure swept down my spine. I writhed beneath him, both hands in his hair and holding on for dear life. I couldn’t breathe, and when I finally gasped, I inhaled air greedily into my lungs before jerking again in residual pleasure. When he didn’t _stop_ , when I thought my heart might slam completely through my chest, I curved upward ( _very nearly curling around his head_ ) and let myself fall once more. This time, it was only Jamie having the good sense to shoot a hand over my mouth that kept me from alerting the entire household to our activity.

As my chest slowed to a stop after heaving for several moments, I weakly reached for him. My hand ineffectively slapped at his shoulder, but he raised his head and I felt him shift to lay beside me. It took a monumental effort to open my eyes, slowly turning my head to face him as my still-heavy lids rose.

“Hi,” I murmured, but for the life of me, I didn’t know why. Still, it made him smile at me, the kind that warmed my heart even now.

“Hello, Sassenach,” he whispered right back, leaning over to capture my lips in a slow, searching kiss. I could taste myself on him, sighing into his mouth as his arms slipped around me. We were both on our sides facing one another, and I knew what he wanted without asking. Raising a leg over his hip, we locked eyes as his hand disappeared between us. I didn’t blink until I felt the tip of him glide across the heated center of me, making me gasp sharply. 

“When did you--” I stopped to wet my lips. “--take off your bottoms?”

He laughed breathlessly before groaning as he slid inside of me. Slowly I enveloped him and the moment he filled me completely I knew that now, _right now_ , was the moment I’d finally found what I was looking for. My _home_ held me in his arms as he whispered that the sleep attire had gone while I fought for breath after climax number two. It didn’t matter now as he moved slowly, withdrawing nearly all the way before thrusting deeply again. Our rhythm was slow and unhurried, my fingers lightly grazing over his face, watching his eyes. I’d had sex plenty of times.

This was the first time I’d made love.

By the way Jamie focused and his gaze softened on my face, I wondered if he felt it too, this connection between us. His eyes never left mine; even when I closed my own as I sank into the euphoria of being lost to him, each time they opened again I was met with intense sapphire. The next time I pressed a kiss to his lips, he rolled until I was over him, hands dropping to my waist. Pushing my hair to one side, I grinned down at him, biting my bottom lip and rolling my hips against his. His low groan was enough to encourage me to do it again, then again.

“Christ, Sassenach, I think ye may kill me,” he grunted. I could see the way he was sweating in the dim light of his lamp.

“I would bring you back,” I breathed out, leaning down so that my words fell over his mouth. “I would find you, and I would bring you back to me,” I vowed, rolling my hips harder before sitting straight up. Bracing my hands on his torso I dropped my hips just enough that I could shamelessly grind into his pubic bone, reaching for one of his hands as sparks of white dotted my vision.

Breathing heavily, I took his hand and brought it to my lips, kissing his palm before guiding it to my breast. He held on, squeezing sensitive flesh and pinching both nipples until they tightened. I could tell he was fighting it now, concentrating on not finishing yet. But, after two climaxes of my own, I wanted him to give in; more than anything, I wanted to watch him. Raising my hips and moving away, he reached out blindly, bereft without me until my hand wrapped around him instead. I moved quickly, giving him no time to think before I felt him go stone-hard in my grasp. When he came, it was with both hands fisted in the sheets and the veins in his neck straining with the effort to not groan loudly. I watched every second of his unraveling until he was still, save for his chest heaving.

Moving slowly, I disappeared into his bathroom and returned with a damp cloth. When he opened his eyes, I gave him a soft smile as I wiped his belly before crawling back into bed with him, pressing myself against the warmth of his side. Nuzzling his skin, I kissed his shoulder softly before he opened his embrace and I could drape across his chest.

“Well. Was I everything you thought I’d be?” I asked with a quiet laugh, kissing his chest.

He chuckled and tightened his hold on me. “I dinna think I could have ever imagined anythin’ that good, Sassenach. Christ, do ye even ken how perfect ye are? That waist and those breasts, God, that perfectly rounded arse,” he said with a low groan.

I laughed and arched into his body as one of his hands cupped said backside. “I don’t know about perfect, Jamie Fraser. But if you think I am, then I must be.”

“I do think it. And it is _true_. I’ll say it until ye believe it.”

He kissed me then, and I thought maybe I could believe that he thought I, plain Claire Beauchamp, was something as good as perfect.

After lying in bed for a good long while but not feeling much cooler, I rose and went to his window, unlatching it and leaning out a bit into the night air. It felt marginally better, so I stood there, naked and overheated with my eyes closed.

“You know, Sassenach, we could still go down to the river,” he suggested.

When I looked over at him, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me.

“If we go out through the kitchen, we can take a bottle of wine on the way out.”

The idea of sitting by the river, eating strawberries and drinking wine straight from the bottle with Jamie, was too appealing to decline. So, we somewhat dressed: he pulled on his pajama bottoms again, and I put on my nightgown, then his robe over it. Neither of us bothered with shoes as we snuck out of the house, bottle of wine clutched in my free hand. Once again, he guided me through the thick trees until we broke into the clearing. Finding the strawberries, I didn’t hesitate to slip into the water once I’d undressed, though I didn’t linger. I watched as Jamie made his way toward a smooth, flat rock, polished away by centuries of erosion when the river was likely something much bigger. Swimming to meet him, I waded out of the water just as he pulled the cork out of the half-bottle left over from supper. Passing it to me, I took the first slow sip of red cabernet before returning it to him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever spent a summer night doing anything better,” I commented, leaning back on my hands and closing my eyes. It was a good impression of sunbathing, only under the light of the moon.

“No,” I heard him breathe out, his voice lightly hitching. I blinked one eye open at him and he was staring, unsure where to focus as he seemed to be studying me so hard he was taking a mental photograph. “Do ye know, Sasseach,” he began, reaching out to lightly drag the tip of one finger along the curve of my breast. “Ye would have been a muse for paintings and statues in a different time.”

I laughed softly, turning my head to look at him before grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a mouthful before replying. “Paintings and statues of _what_?”

When Jamie took the bottle, it was only to move it out of his way. Reaching for me, I silently obliged his tugging and repositioned myself in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist. His arms wrapped around my body, and he kissed me first as my hands moved up and down his forearms.

“Like ye see in museums. Like in the _Louvre_.” His touch moved up and down my back slowly as his lips traveled down my neck. “More beautiful than any painting of the Blessed Mother. God forgive me for sayin’ so,” Jamie mumbled against my breast.

“I think questioning the beauty of Mary is the least of our sinful concerns tonight,” I whispered with an uncaring grin, capturing his lips as he moved to my hips, beginning a slow, back and forth rocking that made my stomach tremble.

“What about you?” I asked, fingers trailing a path toward his biceps. “You’re like the Statue of David. All muscle and exuding quiet confidence.” I sighed and tipped my head back as his lips wrapped around a nipple, then blinked them open to stare at him when he stopped.

“I pray my cock is a bit more impressive than _David’s_ ,” Jamie huffed, and I couldn’t help myself, dissolving into laughter that he soon joined in on even as he easily ( _aided by a want for him that never seemed to stop simmering lightly in my belly_ ) guided himself back into me. Our elatedness turned breathless as I clutched at him, holding on for dear life once he raised his head to look at me. As he moved, we stared at one another, and as if by some silent cue, we both raised an arm so that our hands could meet, fingers entwining. I rocked my hips against him and he groaned loudly, unrestrained now in the depths of the forest.

Deciding to follow his lead, I gasped his name, my free hand anchoring to the back of his head. “It is,” I managed belatedly. “You--you’re better than--” I groaned as he thrust up sharply, hitting something inside of me that made stars burst behind my closed eyes.

“Better than what, Sassenach?” he ground out, abandoning my hand in favor of pulling my body impossibly closer.

My hips moved now with urgent need, forehead pressing to his neck as I struggled to find my words. “Than _anyone_ ,” I finally confessed, just before a sharp cry gave itself up to the night.

He moved then, one hand slipping into the crevice between us and I tensed when his thumb found what he was looking for. Each motion was like a flame stroking sensitive, tender nerves, and with a loud, keening cry, I tumbled into oblivion once again, pleasure making my fingers curl into the base of his neck and leaving half-moon imprints in their wake.

When he came this time, it was against my inner thigh, his mouth open and pressing to my shoulder. I could feel my pulse between my thighs; I could feel his as I pressed my lips to Jamie’s jugular. Laying uselessly in his arms, the hot, sticky air did nothing to cool our bodies.

“Swim with me,” I murmured after a while, and together we dropped back into the cool water. We floated until reaching the strawberries, then made our way to the riverbank to dry and snack. I was leaning back against his chest, between his legs, content to be fed berries every few moments.

“Have ye ever felt so content?” he asked, one hand low on my belly as his thumb idly stroked my skin.

“No,” I admitted honestly. “Can I tell you something?”

His hand wandered lower, knuckles lightly brushing curls. “Ye can tell me anything, Sassenach.”

Without thinking much, I shifted one leg up in invitation, one he accepted as his fingers sought the warmth of me once again and I pushed my hips into his touch.

“You make me feel everything,” I managed, confessing the words in the dark with my eyes closed.

“Everything?” he asked against my ear, moving his thumb at a torturously slow pace.

“Happiness,” I gasped, a hand clinging to his thigh. “Need, want-- _please_ , Jamie,” I moaned, baffled at the way he could stoke embers and make them flame so easily.

“What else, Sassenach?” he practically growled, giving me what I wanted in such a way that I couldn’t speak. I was helpless to do anything but arch back into his arms as my vision blacked and the woods went quiet around us as his name tumbled from my lips. When I was finally still and quiet, Jamie’s nose nuzzled at my curls before his lips paused against my ear. “What else?”

The question was quiet and hung in the air between us as I thought about it. Everything we’d done in the last day filtered through my mind, a lazy slideshow of everything he’d done for me. Warm sleepiness and contentment made me melt into his embrace as I voiced what I felt aloud. I tugged his hand up to my lips and pressed one word as a kiss of promise to his wrist.

“Love.”


	8. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire know summer is coming to an end and so, they make promises.

I didn’t like that the days were rolling by; lazy while we lived them, but slipping away too quickly. In just a small handful of weeks, Jamie and I would be parting for school. My way of coping was to dwell on it in the moments when thoughts drifted freely ( _just before sleeping, any time I was supposed to be poring over historical documents with Lamb, the quiet between heartbeats as I lay resting on Jamie’s chest_ ) and my stomach could tighten and flip with dread and anxiety.

Jamie didn’t seem to think about it at all, by contrast, living for each moment we could successfully capture as our own. We were currently back at the loch we’d visited once before, this time with a picnic in tow. On Sundays, he didn’t have to worry about any chores outside of feeding the animals; so after Mass, our time was _our own_. Both of us were in the bed of his truck now, a towel spread beneath us while we dried from swimming. Somewhere, a bird called in the distance, and one closer returned the cry.

“Greylags,” Jamie commented beside me, one warm hand coming to rest against my stomach.

“Greylags?” If the word sounded breathless ( _because my stomach clenched at his touch_ ), he was kind enough not to call me out on it.

“The birds, ye ken? They mate for life. It’s why they call to one another now, as the day grows later.”

I turned my head toward Jamie to look at him, reaching out to push an errant curl behind his ear as I completed his thought. “They call one another home.” Lifting my head, I closed the distance between us, kissing him sweetly.

“If one dies,” he began, the words falling softly along the curve of my jaw, “then ye must kill the other. Otherwise, it will languish and grieve itself to death.”

Closing my eyes, I felt the weight of his words tug my heart deeper into my chest, as if an ominous thing had been put into the world and I was shrinking away.

“Don’t talk like that,” I whispered, feeling the words get stuck in my throat, not meaning to sound quite as affected as I had.

Immediately, Jamie pulled me into his arms, his hold tight and protective as he dropped a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m sorry, Sassenach.”

For a while, neither of us said anything and I listened as the greylags drew closer to one another, their cries finally mingling into one.

“I’m not ready for the month to be over,” I confessed, shifting in his arms so that I lay tucked against his side.

He sighed heavily, my own body rising and falling with the movement. “Neither am I, Sassenach. But we must; if ye dinna become a nurse, who’ll patch me up when I need mendin’? Farm work is dangerous, ye ken. So, ye must go, my bonny smart lass.” Finishing his declaration with another kiss to the top of my head, he tightened his arms around me.

“Will you send me things? From France? Letters, I mean.” As we spoke, my fingers drew lazy figure-eight patterns on his abdomen.

“Oh, aye, I’ll write to ye, often as I can. Call ye too, when ye can take a moment. And perhaps I’ll slip ye a box of fine Parisian chocolates,” he pondered, tugging my hand up in order to kiss my knuckles.

Deciding it might not be _too_ depressing to drown my missing him with sweets, I sat up fully, tucking my legs beneath my body as I reached for our picnic basket. “Care for a light supper?” I asked, pulling a bottle of whisky out and handing it over before also retrieving a loaf of airy, crisp bread, a small bowl of butter, and a jar of raspberry jam. Digging around, I found the dull knife for spreading and began preparing our bounty.

“‘Tis no’ traditional,” he teased, reaching to dip his finger into the jam jar and getting a swift swat to the hand for it.

“Don’t stick your finger in there, you’ll spread germs,” I scolded. 

“My sincere apologies, _doctor_. In any case, I hope ye plan to feed me more than bread.”

Laughing softly, I tore off a piece, slathered it with butter and jam, and handed it over to him. “I spoke to Mrs. Crook before we left. She agreed to keep plates warm for both of us in the kitchen.” By the time we arrived home it would be well after dark, but the older woman hadn’t seemed to mind the request. In fact, she had been the one to suggest a small appetizer, as it were, before driving home.

“Ye do think of everything, then,” he said, even while leaning close to kiss me softly.

“I try. It isn’t hard to want to take care of you.” Eating my own prepared piece of bread, I watched as Jamie took over, taking his time to prepare a crudely torn chunk for me when I was ready.

“Who’s going to patch you up while we’re apart?” I asked, looking down at the bread in my hands and then back at him, attempting a smile, some sort of brave face.

“Dinna plan to need patching up, Sassenach. I’ll be good, I promise.”

He tried to wink then, and he was so _horrible_ at it that the gesture broke all of the tension I’d inadvertently created. 

“You are _awfully_ bad at winking. You look like an owl. A very handsome, curly-headed owl.”

The grin Jamie gave me was so easy and carefree that all of my lingering feelings of dread dissipated, and we finished our snack. As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the sky exploded with brilliant pinks and purples, the light reflecting off of the water. We sat on the tailgate of his truck, whisky behind us, just within reach. Save for a sip each, it’d hardly been touched, both of us too preoccupied with kissing and touching.

“Before we leave, I aim to have ye,” Jamie promised, the words whispered against my ear and causing heat to pool between my thighs. “But first, I had an idea for us both. A way to keep me close, even when we’re apart.” As his lips pressed to the curve of my neck, I closed my eyes, mostly processing his words.

“What do you mean?”

With one more chaste kiss to my cheek, he pulled away from me, reaching into his pocket and procuring a small knife. “I’d like ye to carve your initials into my palm, as a reminder of ye each time I look down at the scar.” Taking my hand, he guided my fingers to the mound of his own, below his thumb. “Here, Sassenach.”

It was a lot to process, and I cleared my throat, wetting my lips and looking down at his hand. “You want me to cut you?”

“Dinna make it sound _barbaric_. I only want to look and see that ye’ll be mine, _mo nighean donn_ , as soon as I return.”

“I always will be,” I breathed out automatically, meaning that I would always be his. “Would you want to--to carve your initial into my hand in return?” My eyes moved back to his, and I could see what he wanted, clear as day.

“Aye, though what I want is naught compared to what _you_ want, Sassenach. I would never demand it from ye.”

“No, I want to.” My response was automatic, giving him an answer without much thought of any consequences. I only imagined the evenings I would lie alone, far from him, but could touch a scar and imagine he was doing the same. I imagined moments of doubting myself, frustration with school, but that I could look at a jagged _J_ and know he’d be proud. 

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I added, “I haven’t cut someone deliberately before.”

“I suppose ye’ll have to begin somewhere, aye? What with taking care of people. So, let me be the first.”

His eyes bore into mine and I felt my heart constrict tightly in my chest . He was my first in many different ways, but the only important one was this:

Jamie Fraser was my first love. As far as I was concerned, he would be my only.

Taking the knife he extended, I fumbled behind me for the whisky, turning to look and dousing the blade after testing its sharpness. “Ready?”

Leaning back against the side of the truck, Jamie held his hand out to me. “Aye, carve yer wee initials, Sassenach.”

“All of them?” I pressed further, positioning him comfortably before bringing the point of the knife to his skin.

“Only the _C_ , I reckon. I dinna plan to keep ye as ‘Claire Beauchamp’ for long.”

I felt color rise in my cheeks and my chest flush at his declaration. “I expect you to keep that promise.”

“I swear to ye, I will never make a promise I dinna intend to keep. Ever.” I looked up as he wet his lips before leaning down to kiss me firmly.

Once he settled again, I began the delicate work of sliding the point of the knife over his palm and curving it in a way that resembled a ‘C’ before the blood flow was too much to see what I was doing. When he passed me his handkerchief, I pressed it to the wound and raised his arm slightly, all the while holding his gaze.

“That didn’t hurt too badly, did it?”

His fingers laced with mine as he leaned forward again, kissing me with all the fervor of a man starved. When he pulled back, he finally answered the question. “Just a wee pinch, then it was over,” he promised, untangling our hands and pulling the cloth back to reveal my handwork. It was a passable half-moon shape, in any case, and I offered the knife back to him.

“Your turn.”

When he took my hand, Jamie brought it to his lips first, kissing the spot he was about to cut into. Then he marked me, the sting of the blade making me wince only a little, but enough that he worked quickly. Instead of pressing the cloth to my minor wound, he poked at his own until the blood began flowing again. Then he pressed our palms together, fingers interlocking once more.

“I swear to ye, Sassenach, when your four years are done, I’ll marry ye come hell or high water.”

I couldn’t control the width of my smile, ducking my head as I struggled to tame it. My gaze was soft — fond and full of love for him — when I eventually let my eyes wander over his face.

“You never proposed, you know.”

For a moment he looked stunned, then tilted his head in reflection. “No, I suppose I didna, did I?” Clearing his throat and pressing our hands a bit tighter together, he looked at me seriously.

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, ye’re the only person I want to spend my days with. The only person I want to see the world with, and yer face is all I see when I imagine what my future holds. So, Sassenach.” He paused there, his words hanging in the air for two heartbeats. “Would ye do me the honor of making me yer own?”

I’d thought, for some odd reason, he would try to make it funny; so with such a question, I could only look at him, stunned into silence as my eyes filled with tears. When I spoke, my voice choked off with emotion and I had to begin again. “Yes, Jamie Fraser. Yes, I will make you mine.”

Before I could think or say anything else, Jamie’s mouth descended on mine, and as we came together, I laid back in the truck, pulling him with me. He wasted no time in pushing the material of my bathing suit down my shoulder, kissing bare skin before carefully removing the entire garment from me, leaving me naked beneath him, nipples taut against the breeze of the cooling night air, pinpricks of anticipation raising goosebumps along my arms.

The invitation of my breasts was too much for Jamie to resist, and he made me moan with abandon, having a small love affair with each nipple, his own bathing suit discarded. I was taken by surprise when one hand snaked between us, thumb gliding heavily, perfectly, against slowly fraying nerves. When I was slick enough, he withdrew his hand, causing a whimper replaced by a keening cry from me, back arching as he filled me. Once he was as deep as he could go, I pulled him down, hooking my hands behind his head for a slow but thorough kiss. My tongue explored his mouth until I was short of breath, and only then did I lay back again and allow him to move.

Each time he pushed his way inside of me, it was as if pleasure sparked and burned up my spine, climbing to an inevitable drop point. Bliss tugged at my body like an undertow, and I gladly gave in. When I shattered around him, muscles tight and insistent, fighting to pull him in deeper, he exhaled loudly, groaning words in Gaelic before withdrawing and spilling against my thigh. I kept him close, though, hands tangled in his hair.

Once I could breathe again, I pressed my lips to Jamie’s ear, murmuring quiet promises I had no intention of breaking.

“You are mine, right now, as of this moment,” I decided, resolute. “Our wedding will only be to make things legal, but you _are_ mine.”

His head raised, holding my gaze before kissing me languidly. “Blood of my blood and bone of my bone,” he recited, kissing my neck now. “Scottish vows,” he further explained.

“I like that.” I murmured, fingers trailing up and down his side. ”Blood of my blood and bone of my bone,” I repeated. I didn’t expect him to go on.

“I give ye my body, that we two may be one.”

Again, I repeated Jamie’s words, and the next set.

“I give you my spirit. Until our lives may be done.”


	9. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire have Lallybroch to themselves. Conversation ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you noticed the chapter count, we've gone from 20 to 21 chapters. As I fleshed out the end of Part 1 (which is in 2 chapters!), I realized there was something else that very much needed to happen, but cramming it into the next chapter was making it way too long, so! We're almost halfway through, gang :)

It was a rare thing, to have the entirety of Lallybroch to ourselves, but fortune seemed to be on our side today. It was the first noticeably cooler day of the summer, a harbinger of fall and my inevitable separation from Jamie. The thought of it made my stomach clench and mind search for ways to put off my day of departure. But it was two weeks away and, rationally, I knew it couldn’t be avoided.

That was why the empty house wasn’t taken for granted.

Uncle Lamb, Brian, and a few of their mutual acquaintances decided to take a trip to Kilmartin Glen. Because of the distance ( _all to see some stones and crumbling forts; even as interested in archeology as I was, I failed to be interested in touching rocks when I could be touching Jamie_ ) they would be gone two full nights, promising to return with plenty of notes. Left to our own devices, Jamie, Jenny, Ian, and I ate supper, the four of us trying to refine our excuses for not wanting to linger at the table.

“Jamie—”

“Claire—”

Jenny and Jamie both spoke over one another and I watched as Jamie deferred to his sister with a nod.

“I was only going to see if ye didna mind letting Ian and I borrow your truck is all.”

Jamie eyed his sister critically as if wanting to protest it; even if Ian was Jamie’s best friend, Jenny was his _sister_. But that didn’t stop me from lightly pressing my foot down on top of his, giving him an emphatic look as I asked a question.

“A drive sounds nice. Where are you going?”

Any worry that Jamie wouldn’t get the hint dissipated as he ducked his head to hide a twitch of a smile, clearing his throat.

“Och, nowhere special,” came Ian’s reply, and I wondered if Jenny had a foot on him, too.

“No, I dinna mind. I suppose Claire and I can find something to do around here.”

“Oh, aye, I’m sure ye’ll just be _desperate_ for ideas,” Jenny retorted, and I felt my cheeks flame, praying it was subtle enough to blame on the wine I was currently focused on drinking.

In the end, Jenny and Ian left, and Jamie and I wasted no time going upstairs hand in hand, oblivious to the fact that the entire household staff knew _precisely_ what was going on. We tumbled into bed, a naked tangle of limbs, and didn’t stop to breathe again until distant church bells tolled ten p.m. I laid on my side facing Jamie, warm and pink and satiated as I played with the fine hairs on his chest.

“I’ll be spoiled after tonight. How will I ever be able to sleep alone again?” I asked, taking a deep breath and heaving it out slowly. 

He rolled flat onto his back, taking me with him so that I could splay across his body. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

“Mmm, dangerous, but continue,” I teased, for which I received a light swat to my backside.

“Four years is no’ but a bit over fourteen-hundred days.”

I looked at him like he’d gone mad. “Are you saying that isn’t a hell of a long time? Because I’ve got news for you, Jamie Fraser — it _is_ a long time.” I was aware I was pouting and let out a huff of air in an attempt to relax my face.

“It is a long while, I willna argue that,” he amended while leaning forward to press his lips to my forehead. “But we’ll see one another in between; after only seven-hundred and thirty days, I’ll be able to visit anytime I’d like.”

“I like that number much better than anything over a thousand,” I allowed. “Is that all you were thinking?”

One of Jamie’s hands rubbed up and down my back slowly as he hummed. “No. I was thinkin’...if we each live to say, _seventy_ , do ye ken how many days that will be?”

Lifting my head, I eyed him critically, calling his bluff on having actually done the math. “How many?”

Raising his head, he pushed forward until our lips met, then continued pushing until we were both sitting up. “Twenty-five thousand, five-hundred fifty. We have thousands of days left together, Sassenach, even wi’ school.”

While he spoke, I was busy repositioning myself on his lap and let my hands come to rest on his shoulders. “Well, when you put it like that, what’s four more years?” I asked quietly, ducking my head to press a kiss to the side of his neck, then trailed my kisses lower, down toward his clavicle. “I can accept the facts without liking them.”

Jamie made a sound of agreement in the back of his throat, rubbing his hands up and down my back idly. “We’ll make time in between,” he promised. 

I could tell in the silence that lapsed that he had something to say, and I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. “What is it?”

One of his hands left my back only to cradle my chin with near-reverence. “Are ye afraid?”

For the second time that night, I felt heat creep up my chest. Automatically, I wanted to ask _of what_ , but I couldn’t bring myself to be that flippant. “You’ll think I’m ridiculous.”

“No,” he soothed softly, pushing a hand through my hair. “No, _mo nighean donn_ , I’ll never think that about ye.”

Wetting my lips, I looked down. “What the hell,” I breathed out. “Might as well come straight out with it.” When I looked back up at him, I hated how I sounded to my own ears; young and unsure.

“You’ll be in France with… wine and women and the Eiffel Tower,” I listed, shaking my head at myself. “What I’m saying is, you’ll be in a city renowned for having beautiful women and no shortage of things to do.”

I had never wanted to take back words so badly in my life.

“I’m sorry, that was—”

“It was the fear and concern of a lass who doesna ever get to keep much,” Jamie finished for me, his voice a soothing balm over my exposed emotions.

“It doesn’t sound horribly jealous?”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm as both hands now reached to cradle my face. “Only a wee, normal bit, Sassenach. But I do need to reassure ye.” Jamie pressed a hard kiss to my forehead, seeming to think about it for a moment. “First, I dinna think I’m all that interested in a large monument of metalwork, so I’ll no’ be taking any lasses there but you, if ye wish to see it. Second, aye, there are women in France. But I’m only interested in _one_ woman.”

“You could always change your mind. Like you said — I’m only one woman.”

His head was shaking before I’d even finished my first sentence. “There’s no one else I _want_. I dinna care about other women. Only _you_ , Claire.”

I sniffled a bit, even though I wasn’t crying, and pressed my forehead to Jamie’s. “I’ve never wanted to keep someone so desperately before,” I found myself admitting, a thought that had never made it past my lips.

After more unplanned rearranging, I settled with my back to Jamie’s chest, with a bit of space between us. He was against the headboard, and when his arms failed to wind around me as expected, I looked over my shoulder, curious. He gently nudged my head so that I was looking forward again, making a soft noise of encouragement in the back of his throat. As his fingers begin to gently comb through my hair, I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the room around us. Through the open window, the night song of crickets filtered inside, and then Jamie’s voice was low against my ear.

“When I was a lad, about fourteen, I summered wi’ my Uncle Dougal to help on his farm. One of the farmhands, his family lived on the property and they had a daughter, Bernadette. Weel, one day, as I was carryin’ pails of water, she came up to me and gave my cheek a wee peck.”

Jamie demonstrated by kissing my cheek, a wet, sloppy thing that made me scrunch my nose. Then, his hands went back to their task: braiding my hair. I was surprised to realize he was doing it and too pleased to say anything, not wanting him to stop. “Well? What happened?”

He chuckled, low in his chest. “Her mother caught us and told my uncle. I woke up the next mornin’ to him standin’ over me, telling me I wouldna be takin’ advantage of any of his good help’s daughters. Wasna verra pleasant.”

My forehead creased a bit in thought. “It doesn’t sound that bad, a stern talking to like that.”

“Aye, but the whole time, Dougal had one hand on a knife he carried, and one on my bollocks. I was sixteen before I looked at a lass again.”

I laughed at that, one hand moving up and down his leg. “He certainly got his point across.” I let my thoughts wander, then hummed. “No one ever talked much to me about sex. I had a few conversations with female tutors about various things, but I can’t remember an explicit talk about it.”

“Being around animals, ye get a general sense of how things go, but my da, once I began seriously seeing a lass, sat me down. Told me no’ to rush into things and that when it was the right woman, I’d ken it.”

I knew Jamie wasn’t a virgin, but before I could open my mouth, he spoke again.

“I didna ken what he meant, no’ really. I was near seventeen when I bedded a lass for the first time. I was sure; at least, I thought I was. I enjoyed her, enjoyed speaking wi’ her and doing things wi’ her. So, it only stood to reason we would—” He gestured vaguely, holding onto my braid with one hand.

“I understand,” I assured him, squeezing his leg. “You were serious.” But clearly he’d been wrong, seeing as how he was single when we met.

“I kept waiting, afterward, for some grand feeling to reassure me I’d done the right thing, been wi’ the right woman. I didna feel any less for her, but I didna feel any _more_. And again, when I was nineteen I thought I was in love, but after a year, I realized I didna feel as deeply for her as I _wished_ I felt.” He finished my braid and reached over for the ribbon on his nightstand that usually tied his hair back.

“When was the first time you felt love the way your father described it, Jamie?” I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it.

He didn’t disappoint, pulling me back against his chest and letting his hands splay warm and possessive over my stomach. Then, he leaned in to whisper softly against my ear.

“The day I saw ye in the window, _a nighean_.”

I shivered, and one of his hands moved between my thighs, thumb pressing against nerves still aching with residual pleasure.

“I saw ye, and I kent then and there I had to have ye. But that night, sitting on the wall? That’s when I fell in love wi’ ye.”

His thumb moved at a slow, leisurely pace — enough that I could still find the capacity for speech. “I thought you were beautiful.” My voice sounded breathless to my own ears, and I slowly curved my spine, arching in a way that sent pleasure tingling through my limbs. “The first time I saw you, I mean. Then you spoke, and all I wanted was to hear you forever.”

Jamie began to move faster, lips pressing against my neck as he kissed a line toward my shoulder.

“I don’t—don’t want to go, Jamie.” My hands clutched at his thighs, nails lightly digging into his skin. He didn't relent, and I felt my hips push up against his touch, seeking friction and heat even as I pleaded for something else altogether. “Come with me. Come with me to London.”

Lips pressed to my neck, resting over the pulse slamming against my skin. He said nothing and curved two fingers into me, beckoning me to come with every stroke. I gasped, eyes falling shut against the pending pleasure. The pinprick of need grew until I saw flecks of white in my vision just before shattering. With no family in the house to speak of, I cried out with abandon, back arching as an approximation of his name tumbled from my mouth.

He eased me down, slowing his touch as his nose nuzzled at my neck. His arms wrapped firmly around me, lips pressing to my shoulder.

“It will be alright, Sassenach. Trust that even while we’re apart, we’ll speak regularly, see one another often. And when our four years is up, nothing will keep me from marrying ye proper.”

Jamie’s hand reached for mine, the one with his initial carved into my flesh, and brought it to his lips, kissing the fresh scar. “I’ll miss ye wi’ every bone in my body, but knowing what our future holds will get us through it, _mo nighean donn_.”

When my mind and body were on speaking terms once more, I moved to face Jamie, both of us resting on our sides now.

“I know I keep going on about it, I’m sorry. And I do look forward to our future. I think it—I think it frightens me because the last time someone was only going to be gone a little while, it was my parents.”

And they’d never come home to me.

He pulled me close, kissing the bridge of my nose before nuzzling the tip of his along the side of mine. “You’re alright, I promise,” he soothed, and I sighed softly. “I understand yer fear, Sassenach. And I canna promise nothing will ever happen, it wouldna be fair. But I do promise to never let ye go long wi’ out hearing from me, wi’ out seeing me. Every chance we have, we’ll make the most of it.”

Curling impossibly closer, I tucked myself into the safety and warmth of his body, his arms tightening around me.

“I’ve never missed anyone before, not like this. I’m not even gone yet, and I already want to come back.”

“Aye, I ken what ye mean.” His hand brought mine to his lips, kissing my knuckles this time. “It does feel wrong to let ye go, I canna deny that. But the days apart do give me plenty of time to come up wi’ ways to spoil ye when we are together,” he said with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. 

“I can’t claim to hate the sound of that,” I hummed, leaning forward to kiss his lips gently. Then, I remembered that I was charmed by a certain activity earlier. “Where in the world did you learn to braid hair?” I asked with a soft laugh.

He kissed the tip of my nose this time. “Jenny taught me. After our mam died, she had a difficult time braiding her own hair, so she taught me how to do it on a doll, then had me help her until she could finally do it herself.”

It occurred to me that Jenny could have easily asked Mrs. Crook, but instead, she’d taken the time to specifically teach her brother. I smiled softly, resting my forehead against his.

“Now I have expectations, you know.”

“Oh, aye? What sort of _expectations_ , Sassenach?”

I grinned as I tilted my head back to look up at him. “I’m going to expect that every night before bed, you’ll braid my hair for me.” I ducked to press a kiss to the center of his chest. “Would you do that?”

I felt Jamie smile against my forehead.

“Every evening, Sassenach. Every evening for twenty-five thousand, five hundred and fifty nights.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I've been terrible about replying to individual comments and have been for the past few chapters/fics. I do see everything, and I love everything, and one day I'll have my life together enough to reply! You can always shoot me a tweet at @desperationgin :) I try to check twitter every day. Thank you though, for every comment on every platform. They mean SO much.


	10. Kisses With Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie settle in their separate locations and write to one another.

_September 1, 1938_

_Jamie,_

_I promised I would write the moment I moved into my dormitory, and I can assure you that my unpacked suitcase is at the foot of the bed. Thank you for the surprise photographs of us in my purse; I hadn’t realized your father took any at the gathering, though I’ve never been more grateful. I realized belatedly that while I had two wonderful photographs of you, I didn’t have any of us together. It caused a tearful moment on the train. Fortunately, there was a kind Reverend sitting beside me; he distracted me with his own recollection of Jacobite history. It was interesting, but only made me want to return to you more._

_I’m no stranger to new beds in unfamiliar places, though this is the first time I can’t unloosen the knot that’s formed in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never missed someone before, with so much of myself. That last kiss at the station, in front of God and everyone no less, will have to get me through until December, won’t it? I think even Jenny blushed._

_I hope you’re settling alright. Were you and Ian able to share an apartment as you’d wanted? Do you have a wonderful view? By the time you receive this, you’ll have started your classes; please tell me how you’re finding them, and I’ll let you know how school is here, as well, in my next letter. We begin on Monday, and I’m not sure if I’m worried or if it’s just nerves causing me to doubt myself. What if I’m not capable enough when it comes to real-life scenarios? What if I have the drive to help others, but am rubbish at nursing?_

_I already know you’re shaking your head in protest. It’s nerves, and by this time next month, I’ll be settled and things will be fine. That is what you were going to say, wasn’t it?_

_In half an hour, I’ll have to attend an informal dinner to meet my fellow classmates, so I suppose I should at least unpack a suitable outfit. I don’t want to stop writing; if I stop writing, then I’ll have to face the fact that you’re not really here, listening to everything I’m telling you._

_Sorry for the smear of ink. I’m homesick, I suppose, only you are my home, and I already miss you desperately._

_Please give my best to Ian. Write soon, and put me out of my misery._

_Yours,_

_Claire_

The weekend before I left for London, Brian hosted a two-day party of sorts for all the tenants he rented land to. It was grand and festive, with enough food to feed an army and no shortage of laughter. Old friends arrived, including a delightful man named Mr. Raymond whom I could remember cropping up throughout my childhood; someone who brought me rare toys and exotic candies when visiting. He hadn’t expected to see me, I knew, but still managed to gift me something unique: a dragonfly encased in amber. When I tried to find Jamie to show him, he was busy watching his father, gaining real-time experience as the future _laird_ of Lallybroch. I was captivated by him, the way he drew people in. His eyes seemed to meet every single person’s in the room when he addressed the group at large, and he always seemed much wiser than his age suggested.

Privately between us, the things that could come out of Jamie Fraser’s mouth were like lines from old, romantic poems. Sonnets written in 19th-century fields of heather. The best part was that he always spoke true. He meant those fantastic things he said, and it made me love him all the more.

The first night of the festivities, we’d stolen away to a hayloft, drinking pilfered Drambuie straight from the bottle.

“Did you know this is the secret drink recipe of the Bonnie Prince Charlie?” I’d asked slowly, my speech a bit languid in my not-quite-drunkenness.

“Oh? I only ken my uncle Dougal enjoys the drink verra much, it’s why there’s so much of it for the weekend,” Jamie’d informed me before taking another swallow from the bottle.

“ _Well_ , when he escaped to the Isle of Skye, he was offered protection by – oh, which clan was it?” Pausing, I’d looked out at the sky, squinting before remembering. “Clan MacKinnon! Clan MacKinnon sheltered Prince Charles, and as thanks he gave them this very recipe.”

I had been given a kiss for my useless historical knowledge – and a bit more.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I sealed the envelope, fished a stamp out of my handbag, and neatly scrawled Jamie’s address, plus my own. It took a half-hour to settle on a suitable dress for supper, and I made my way downstairs, intending to keep to myself. Taking a seat at the far end of the dining room table, I listened as the rules of the dormitory were laid out ( _no non-familial men in our rooms unchaperoned, period. No alcohol except for one glass of wine with supper_ ) and studied the other women. All of us seemed to be about the same age, and the one next to me leaned over to speak.

“What do ye think, could we sneak a flask in our brasseries and get away wi’ it?”

My eyes widened first at the accent, and then at the suggestion.

“You’re Scottish?” I asked somewhat dumbly.

“Aye. What gave it away, the accent or the flamin’ red hair?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though I stifled it quickly to avoid the attention of Mistress Hildegarde.

“My name’s Gillian,” my new acquaintance introduced herself. “We’re roommates, you and I. I was down the hall when ye were comin’ out of the room earlier.”

She had hair not quite as red as Jamie’s, a fair complexion, and _definite_ mischief in her eyes.

“Maybe down my knickers,” she mused, and I hid a laugh behind my napkin. While eating ( _an unfamiliar to me meat dish and potatoes_ ), I decided if I was to live here for four years, perhaps befriending at least _one_ person would be nice.

I was proven correct over the next few days; Gillian was smart and took good notes, but had a penchant for knowing when to throw down our study materials and go out for a drink. On a Friday evening after the third week of classes, we were planning to go to the cinema until the mail call happened.

“Ms. Beauchamp, one letter, one parcel.”

When Mistress Hildegarde said my name and I saw the handwriting on the envelope, I apologetically canceled my plans with Gillian and ate my supper in record time before racing upstairs. The package was a square box, and I put it aside in favor of reading Jamie’s letter first.

_September 17, 1938_

_My own,_

_You are correct; I was shaking my head at what you said of yourself. And was I right? Was it nerves and are you settled? I know you can do anything, and I am eager to read all about your classwork. Your roommate as well, is she a nice lass?_

_Ian and I are faring well and do share a small apartment. He’s writing to Jenny now as I write to you. A few things are as I thought; the Latin exams will not be very easy to pass with top marks. I’m not sure speaking Latin will come up much in daily farm life, but I suppose for Mass it will be nice to know exactly what is being said. At least it may be something that could impress Father Bain._

_Hopefully, the parcel I’ve sent along makes it as well. Inside is a wee bit more than chocolate, all things I thought you might enjoy. I had the idea, as well, to take a flight to London before Christmas, then together we could go to Scotland for the holidays, perhaps even spend a night in Edinburgh before going on to Lallybroch. We can work out the details a bit closer to the time, it is only that I’m eager to see you now. Being apart from you feels as though something is missing – even at Lallybroch I felt it, on the days we weren’t able to see one another save for breakfast and supper, only not as keenly. I miss you, Sassenach, down to the very marrow of me. I’m glad you have photographs; I have one of you in my back pocket always. Sometimes, I need to see you._

_Do not weep, lass. Soon, it will only be the two of us._

_The next few months will go by in record time, though perhaps I will be able to find a way to see you sooner. I love you, Claire, and you’ll do well to remember it. Write to me soon, a nighean._

_Yours always,_

_Jamie_

His name was a flourishing signature, and down in the very corner of the page, he’d drawn a small heart. Touching it with the tips of my fingers, I smiled softly and read the letter again. It was comforting to read something so normal, that everything was going perfectly well so far. Folding the letter and tucking it back into the envelope, I tore the parchment paper off of the box next, removing the lid. Inside was something wrapped in pale pink tissue, and when I unwrapped it, found four white handkerchiefs with lace, scented to smell faintly of roses. They were beautiful, and only after closer inspection did I realize my initials were embroidered in the corner, though not _CB_.

_CF_.

After taking a moment to whisper my name with his aloud, I tucked one into my purse, another into my coat pocket, and slipped the other two into my dresser. Digging through the rest of the contents had me finding all sorts of different chocolates, beautifully hand-painted postcards of Parisian landscapes, and a book: _The Postman Always Rings Twice_. There was another note, written on the inside of the cover.

_Sassenach,_

_I wasn’t sure if you’d read it, but you mentioned wanting a good mystery novel to puzzle out. This one is controversial, if you’ll remember. I read it, and I can see why Boston went up in arms. Don’t go getting bawdy ideas._

_–JAMMF_

I laughed aloud at his last sentence and laid the book to rest on the nightstand. Looking at my bounty, I quelled the urge to write back for a mere twenty minutes before sitting down at my desk once more. I went on about my schoolwork, about the things I was learning and told him about Gillian, then reassured him all was well and I had indeed settled. I promised to write more once I’d finished the novel, then changed into my nightgown early, tucking into the book. Hours later and over half-way through, Gillian returned home, letting herself in and flopping down on my bed across my legs.

“Have fun?” I asked, putting down the book for now and stretching.

“When isn’t watching Fred Astaire a delight? Though, it wasna the _best_ of his films, ” she informed in response, filling me in on the plot of _Carefree_. I half-listened, my thoughts on the book, which she called me out for.

“Where’s yer mind, Claire? Surely a book cannae be _that_ good that ye–” Her gaze drifted toward the box, eyes wide by the time she looked back to me again. “Is that from yer fella, then? Let’s see, what did he send?”

As I proudly showed off my bounty, she touched the embroidery on one of the handkerchiefs. “Yer wee fox cub truly wants ye, I’m jealous. Does he have a brother, by any chance?”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Only a sister.”

“Is _she_ available then?”

We laughed at the joke together before scrubbing our faces and turning in for the night, a picture of Jamie tucked under my pillow.

The weeks rolled by, my latest letter arriving on October twelfth. It was short, mostly about how hard he’d been studying and all of the places to eat he was eager to take me to. There was no parcel this time, but he promised something would arrive in time for my birthday.

On the twentieth, I could hardly sit still in my classes, eager to get home and see what had arrived for me. As soon as my day was over I raced to the dormitory, calling out even as I opened the front door.

“Mistress Hildegarde, have you got any parcels for me?”

Her voice rang out from the parlor. “Yes, I would say so, Ms. Beauchamp. Come, it is here, with me.”

Removing my hat and placing it on the hook near the front door, I was pulling off my gloves as I entered the room and paused in shock. “ _Wot_?”

“Mind the rules, my dear,” Mistress Hildegarde reminded on her way out of the room, and I merely nodded, a slow smile spreading so wide it made my cheeks hurt.

“Happy birthday, Sassenach.”


	11. The Biggest Fear Was September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire's birthday, Jamie's surprise.

I didn’t recall my legs moving, but I found myself suddenly in Jamie’s arms, my own tightly around his neck as I hugged him fiercely.

“Are ye surprised?” he asked with a broad smile, pulling back to see my face.

“ _Yes_ , you foolish Scot, I am! How – you must have left yesterday, what about your classes?” I inquired, not wanting him to miss anything and risk his grades on my behalf.

“Aye, I left as soon as I finished. Today I only had a test, so I asked to take it early. Tomorrow is a class Ian and I have together, and I return Sunday evening. He’ll mind the notetaking for me this once.”

I listened, but had gone long enough without kissing him. Bridging the infinitesimal gap between us, I pressed my lips to his, cradling his face in my hands. It was chaste, considering where we were, and I pulled back to let my nose graze the side of his. “I’ve missed you so much,” I murmured, eyes closed as I pressed my face against his neck and breathed deeply.

“Aye, I’ve missed ye fiercely, _mo nighean donn_. There’s a restaurant in my hotel. Would ye care to join me for supper?”

“Just let me change clothes, and I’ll be right back down,” I promised, kissing him one more time before leaving to go upstairs. I was midway through zipping up a navy colored dress when Gillian came through the door.

“That _is_ yer man downstairs sitting there like a Roman sculpture, is it no’?”

I laughed, turning and pointing to my zipper so she could end my struggle. “He does cut a striking figure, doesn’t he?” Without missing a beat, she zipped me up, then began unpinning my hair. “What are you doing?” I asked, reaching back to try and salvage my hairstyle.

“Let the curls _down_ , Claire, ye look more like yerself. Ye’re about to leave here and dinna tell me there’s no’ a plan in sight to have yer way wi’ him. If you come back to this room tonight, so help me God, I’ll knock yer heid straight in.”

I barked out another laugh and looked at her in the mirror with my nose scrunched. “Ever the supportive friend. Won’t I be in trouble if I’m not back by ten?”

“I’m a _professional_ , ye ken. I can cover for ye here and Mistress _Hell_ degarde will no’ ever be the wiser. So, ye spend the night wi’ yer lad,” she said with a casual shrug. “Take a change of clothes wi’ ye, and in the morning, I’ll take your books with me to class, meet ye there.”

I turned and pulled my friend in, kissing her cheek in gratitude. “Have I ever told you what an incredible roommate you are?”

“Och, save it for yer boyfriend, Claire,” she chided, but I caught the hint of a smile before turning back to my hair.

By the time I made it back downstairs, Jamie was surrounded by women, and I had to hide a smirk at how desperate he looked to be anywhere else. As soon as he saw me, his relieved smile caused the other girls to turn and look at who’d walked in. It made me blush – prettily, I hoped – as I made my way to him, holding out a hand. “Ready?”

It didn’t matter that one of the other girls ( _Geneva Dunsany, who walked around with a stick of superiority shoved right up her arse_ ) was quite literally hanging on to Jamie’s arm. 

Reaching out, Jamie took my hand, eyes on me as his thumb grazed the bottom of my wrist.

“Aye, my own. _Je suis prest_.”

I spared a glance at Geneva, who wasn’t bothering to hide the fact that she was offended by my mere existence. As I slid my hand into Jamie’s and our fingers laced together, I smiled sweetly at her before turning to lead Jamie out to the street.

We walked together, hands swinging as I excitedly filled him in on all the things I hadn’t quite been able to get across in a letter. For once, I didn’t mind being the one to go on, happy to answer his questions as they arose all the way to the hotel. I only stopped when he pulled out a chair for me at the dinner table. Sitting, I laid my napkin out over my lap and finally took a breath, taking a moment to simply _look_ at him.

“I missed you,” I breathed out, not for the first time, feeling my eyes begin to shine against my will.

Reaching across the table, Jamie took my hand in his, thumb again grazing the delicate skin of my wrist – a new favorite spot, it seemed. “I missed ye, _a nighean_. I could listen to ye speak for miles more; I’ve never been sae disappointed to reach a destination.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand, and we took our time over dinner, savoring the food as much as one another. In the back of my mind, I wondered how much money he had to spare on such a lavish meal ( _complete with a bottle of wine and a rich creme brulee for dessert_ ), but it _was_ my birthday, and this gift of simply being with him and sharing a good meal more than made sense.

As I reached for my glass of water, Jamie’s hand snagged mine, and as soon as our eyes locked, the ambient noise in the room faded until all I could hear was the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears and Jamie’s voice.

“Will ye... come up to bed wi’ me, Sassenach?”

Keeping my gaze steady on his, a slow smile spread across my lips as my fingers curled around his hand.

“To bed? Or to sleep?”

Our shared ( _but silent_ ) exchange rendered the question unnecessary to answer aloud.

After settling the bill, Jamie helped me stand, the two of us walking leisurely toward the elevator and then slowly down the long hallway toward his room. It was as if neither one of us were aching and eager to be behind that closed door; this walk was our foreplay, and each step was accompanied by a spark in my belly. His hand wasn’t quite holding mine; instead, his pinky grazed the side of my palm, my own small finger hooking in his. When I glanced up at Jamie, he happened to look down at me, his eyes already a midnight blue, dark and wanting.

Once we reached room 501, I found myself pressed to the back of a closed door almost as soon as it was locked. I was standing in a dark room with Jamie’s mouth desperately on mine, tongue eagerly seeking permission to kiss me harder. Granting it, I lifted one foot, then the other as he hoisted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as we kissed. We were navigating blindly in the dark, Jamie walking backward as my tongue became reacquainted with his. As he stumbled into a table and sent a box of tissue tumbling to the ground, I dropped my hips against the obvious bulge in his trousers, causing him to groan.

“Christ, I cannae even see straight, let alone walk,” he decided when we’d gone far enough.

We happened to be directly in front of the dresser with its attached mirror. When he sat me on top of it, our eyes met and I could have ignited on the spot at how predatory he looked. It made my fingers curl around the edge of the wooden surface, leaning my body forward as his fingers dipped beneath my hair to find the zipper of my dress. The hitching sound of the material parting matched my breathing, the anticipation causing even the smallest hairs on my arms to rise.

“I need to watch ye, Claire. I need to see ye.” His words were part request, part demand, but either way, my legs acquiesced as they parted, cradling the hardness of him between my thighs.

“Get this dress off of me, please,” I whined, my hands pushing at his jacket before trying to shove his shirt up and over his head.

“ _Patience_ ,” he whispered directly into my ear before biting at my earlobe.

What I intended to be a soft whimper turned into a louder moan as his hand cupped my sex, making a home between my thighs.

“Are ye already wet, I wonder?” he asked, questing fingers finding their answer as they slid, slick and easy to dip into me before he withdrew and glided higher, making my hips jerk and my body lurch forward.

“I want to feel you.” My voice sounded ragged and desperate and I didn’t care – I needed him, unashamed for him to know how much.

“Oh, I plan to make ye feel as much as ye can stand,” Jamie promised in a way that made my heart thud with anticipation. When he withdrew his hand I whimpered, but it became clear very quickly that he was making an attempt to get my dress off. Instead of letting it slip down my legs, he bunched the material up, shimmying it over my torso and chest as I raised my arms obediently. Once my head was free, I was left with riotous curls deciding to go rogue, springing forth every which way they pleased.

Stepping back to simply gaze at me, he sighed the sound of the most contented man in all of London.

“Christ, ye’re sae bonny, Claire. Everything about ye is perfect.” As he spoke, one hand dragged heavily up my belly until he could cup a breast in his hand. He squeezed firmly, making me press into his touch before reaching around to unhook my brassiere, letting it fall down my arms. “Will ye let me have my way wi’ ye?”

One hand pushed through his curls as I decided not to fight the urge to guide him toward a breast. “Anything,” I gasped, as soon as he latched onto a nipple and began to suck. He let my response hang, having his fill of both breasts before finally raising his head. “Anything you want,” I repeated, looking right at him.

Without responding, he pushed cotton material down my legs until I could kick it off. Then, his hand found me again and all I could do was sink into the bliss and pleasure Jamie was coaxing out of me, stroke by stroke. By the time I shattered and cried out his name, I was positive my heart now resided somewhere low in my belly, my need nowhere near satiated.

Bringing me down slowly, Jamie kissed my neck and down along the curve of my shoulder before stepping back.

“Turn around, _a nighean_ ,” he commanded quietly.

When I opened my eyes, he was standing in front of me, trousers and underwear discarded, hand around his cock and slowly stroking. I was captivated and couldn’t stop watching, feeling my breath hitch as I watched his palm graze the tip, able to see his body shudder.

“Turn around?” I’d lost the ability to understand, rationally, what he wanted.

So, he showed me.

Gently, he slid me down to the ground, then turned my body so that I was facing the mirror. That’s when it clicked, and my gaze met his reflection’s.

“Is this alright?” Jamie asked as his lips pressed to my shoulder, and I could feel him, hard and pressing against my hip.

“ _Yes_.” My voice sounded froggy this time, hoarse with the anticipation of watching Jamie watch _me_.

My one-syllable permission was all he needed to tantalize us both, his cock teasing the main event as he kept his dark, lust-filled expression on mine.

“Do it now,” I whispered, licking my lips. “Do it now, and don’t be gentle.” My own words surprised me, but the weeks of missing him combined with the thrill of watching his body meet mine over and over again made me feel wanton.

The sound he made was enough to catapult me right back to the precipice of no return, and when he thrust into me I cried out, loudly and unrestrained, head bowed in concentration. I focused on every muscle, sinking forward against the dresser so that he could slide deeper.

“Look at us,” Jamie rasped, one of his hands gliding up my back and into my hair. He tugged – only enough to get my attention – and I raised my head, opening bleary eyes.

The dresser was short enough that I could see his hand at my hip, could see the way his thighs rippled each time he thrust into me. When I looked higher, the sight of us ( _me, bent over the wooden furniture, Jamie standing tall behind me and biting his bottom lip in an effort not to spill too quickly_ ) was enough to make my body feel as if it’d gone into a free-fall. I felt my belly tighten and then, as quickly as my next breath, the pleasure was too much. I cried out again, head bowing as my hands grasped feebly at the wood beneath me. I felt Jamie thrust desperately out of rhythm three, four more times before withdrawing, warmth spilling onto my hip.

I couldn’t remember how long I laid splayed across the furniture, unable to move, but as Jamie reached down for the tissue box on the floor, I inhaled deeply and finally raised my head. Curls masked my view of Jamie delicately wiping my skin clean, and by the time I’d situated myself, he’d finished, tossing the tissue away and pulling me back against his chest.

“That was worth the wait, aye?” he asked, voice full of mischief as our eyes met once more in the mirror.

“You did promise to never make me wait _long_ ,” I practically purred, pulling away in order to make my way to the bed. I stretched out on my side, a hand reaching out to him. “And I would wait for you. Always.”

Taking my offered hand, Jamie moved closer and kissed my wrist before laying down beside me, propped on his side and facing me.

“When we’re together again, we want to travel, see the world, still?” he pondered as his fingers teased stubborn ringlets.

“That’s the plan, as far as I know. Why, have you changed your mind?” I was idly tracing random figure-eight patterns along his side as we spoke.

“No. No, Sassenach, I havena changed my mind. Well, no’ about that, exactly.” He paused, in a way I knew meant he was serious about what he wanted to say.

“It’s alright,” I prompted gently. “What did you change your mind about?”

Jamie sat up now, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Going home over the holidays, to Lallybroch.”

His words lingered as I tried to process what he was saying. “... At all, you mean?”

He nodded, looking at me. “Aye. Perhaps coming to see ye here, but–” he paused, and I tried not to panic.

“My cousin Jared is traveling to Singapore and wants me to mind his business while he’s away. _Me_! He said I have a good way wi’ numbers and he trusts me. It would mean I couldna be gone an entire month, but I could still come for a weekend.”

I tried to mask my disappointment at the idea of not spending Christmas at Lallybroch, and at the larger fact that instead of three and a half glorious weeks together before the second semester, our time had been reduced to a handful of days. As usual, my face betrayed me.

“I ken ye’re disappointed, Claire.” One large palm cradled my face, his thumb slowly gliding across the apple of my cheek. “But to make more money for us – ‘tis too good of an opportunity to turn down.”

Jamie sounded excited, proud, and I knew it meant a great deal to him, to be trusted this way by Jared. Something clicked then, and I thought back to our expensive dinner. “You started working for him early, didn’t you?”

Of course, he had; he never made it a secret that he wanted to work hard to build a life for us. Reaching out for his hand, I twined our fingers together. “Does that mean between now and Christmas, we won’t see one another for extended visits?” I hated the idea of only seeing him snatches at a time, but stopped short of saying so.

“Would ye be angry wi’ me?” he questioned tentatively, thumb grazing the mound of my palm.

I gave the question considerable thought. _How could I hate him for already investing in our future together?_

“Will you write more often then? And call?”

He relaxed beside me, slipping back down on the bed to pull me into his arms. “I’ll mind the rules and call ye before curfew begins every Sunday evenin’,” he promised. “And write twice a week.”

“I suppose that’s enough,” I teased, reaching out to drag my fingers along his jaw. “You told me we have hundreds of thousands of days left. And I _will_ still see you.” Just not for as long as I’d have liked. “Perhaps I’ll visit Lamb the rest of the time, wherever he happens to be in the world for the break.” Currently, it was Morocco, though I decided to ask Gillian what she was doing for the break as well.

“Are ye sure ye’re no’ upset at the change of plans?” he asked, almost sounding nervous.

Carefully, I pushed him onto his back, straddling him before taking both his hands in mine. I threaded our fingers together so that we were palm to palm and begin a slow, unhurried rock against him. The intent was there, and it would take time, I knew, but not long for him.

“I can’t wait to spend every day with you just like this,” I breathed, guiding one of his hands to a breast. “But I can handle postponing it. You’re doing something for _us_ , Jamie. How could I ever be upset over that?”

Reaching out, he tugged me down into a kiss, and this time our lovemaking was slow when we tangled together. Jamie had hopes and dreams for us, and he whispered them against my ear as our bodies moved effortlessly into one another. Endless days of holding one another, a home filled with our laughter – the pretty picture he painted made possible because he refused to turn down the chance to prove himself a hard worker.

This time, after we fell apart together, we dozed until I awoke desperately thirsty. Quietly and carefully, I moved out of bed, walking naked to the other side of the room and helping myself to a glass of water. From his window, the view to the street below showed people walking in a light drizzle, hurrying home as the hour grew later and the weather less pleasant. I was so lost in my thoughts ( _wondering if it would be too hectic to try and visit Jamie next month_ ) that I didn’t hear him until he was right behind me.

Before I could turn to look at him, his arms moved and he was draping a pearl necklace over my head. They fell just below my breasts, and I raised the end of the strand to examine them, suddenly unable to catch my breath.

“Jamie, these–”

“Are Scotch pearls,” he gently interrupted, and I turned to look at him quickly, bewildered to be given such a sentimental item. I was too stunned to speak, prompting Jamie to continue. “They belonged to my mother. Now, they belong to the woman I intend to marry.” He paused, tilting my chin up with one finger.

I finally found my voice, though it was hushed, as if we were speaking of a holy object. “Why would you give something so valuable to me?” My voice broke just a little at the end, and he kissed my forehead, lips lingering for a few heartbeats.

“They’re one of the few things I have left of her, and verra precious to me. As are you, Claire.”

The way he said my name, as if the word itself were the answer to a prayer, was enough to draw me out of any lingering stupor. Stepping closer, I pressed my lips to his shoulder before nuzzling his skin. “They’re beautiful, Jamie.”

His head ducked so that his nose could glide along my temple. “Have I done well for your first birthday wi’ me?”

I laughed, the sound more watery than I anticipated, so I nodded. “Better than well.” I raised up on my tiptoes so that my mouth could graze his, fingers resting at the side of his neck.

“Let me thank you properly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter before the end of Part 1! See you next week :)


	12. When He Had to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One sentence changes the future of Jamie and Claire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the end of Part 1! I have plenty of people to thank, so be sure to head over to tumblr for a separate note section. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with Part 1 of this story. Enjoy!

_As I walked along the old yet familiar path in the woods, I let myself drift back to those months before the war, before everything I’d planned for my life was obliterated. If I’d known the last time I saw him was truly to be the last, I would have savored the night we drank wine straight from the bottle, naked in bed. But he’d promised hundreds of thousands of days left together, so I took that one evening for granted._

_I hadn’t counted on James Fraser being a liar._

\-------------------

That first Christmas Jamie and I spent together wound up being a grand total of four days, but they were four well-spent, wrapped in one another and oblivious to the rest of the world. Gillian had mentioned being gone the remainder of our break, but when I arrived at the dormitory on the 28th, there she was, sitting on my bed with a tin of biscuits. We ate shortbread and drank whatever alcohol she’d managed to sneak in, laughing well into the late-night hours to distract me from missing Jamie.

We did manage to see one another in February, and we were both diligent about writing and calling. The rhythm we fell into was comfortable, even if we both knew where we’d rather be. We were together just after the end of classes in May for a week; I went to France and met his cousin, then made love to Jamie for six days before flying to meet Uncle Lamb in Norfolk. He was working on-site at Sutton, near Woodbridge, a newly discovered cemetery alongside a ship graveyard — a perfect final hurrah for Lamb before his retirement from the field.

It was to be my last digging adventure as well, and it felt a bit like closing the door on a past that wasn’t exactly what it might have been, all while opening the door to a future I could already see vividly.

_Jamie coming home and standing in the archway of Lallybroch, tall and proud._

_Red-haired children toddling with arms outstretched to reach him._

_Sitting on the front steps with a new baby in my arms, watching the reception, the hugs and kisses, patiently waiting for my turn._

June was spent carefully brushing artifacts free from centuries of dirt, sending Jamie frequent updates and photos. He sent books and good wine in return, but we weren’t able to speak on the phone due to my lack of one in the area. He’d decided to work for Jared as much as he could during the summer, a choice that failed to surprise me. 

The hard work outdoors all day kept me too exhausted to focus on the ache in my chest from missing Jamie, but by mid-July, I couldn’t stand it any longer. With the dig site closing soon, I made plans to visit him near the end of August, but endeavored to keep it a surprise. Time seemed to crawl, and it was hard not to pass it by being absorbed in what was happening in the news. The world, and especially the UK, seemed to be holding its breath, teetering on the edge of a cliff. By the time August 28th arrived and I was on my way to Paris, the air was tense and filled with unease. Still, there was nothing to do but wait to see if the world would truly erupt into chaos yet again. 

The closer I drew to Jamie, the more my mind eased, until I was trying to imagine the look of surprise on his face when he saw me. I didn’t have to wonder if he would be delighted to have the same stunt he’d pulled reversed on him, and the thrill of excitement made me smile to myself. When I’d first planned the trip, in an effort to be sneaky, I’d written to Jenny and asked _her_ to write to Ian so he could meet me when I arrived. It was clever, and I couldn’t help but be proud of myself for thinking of it.

When I stepped off the train, there he was, greeting me with an embrace that lingered and tightened midway through — an effect of not seeing a good friend in far too long. When we parted, I held onto his arms, leaning back and smiling.

“Does Jamie suspect anything?”

Ian carried my suitcase for me to the waiting taxi. “No’ a thing. He’s worrit, everyone is, and he could use the pleasant distraction,” he assured me. “And ye have good timing, something to celebrate wi’ him.”

“Oh?” I questioned, wondering about the news Jamie hadn’t had the chance to tell me yet.

“He sold a good amount of wine, and the deal made Jared the most coin he’s had in months. Gave Jamie quite a large sum for it. Only happened yesterday evening, and Jamie thought ye’d be unreachable, ye ken.”

We’d had to keep him from suspecting, so I’d explained that Gillian and I were having one last carefree weekend before classes began and that I would phone when I returned. Of course, the truth would outweigh my small lie, I hoped.

When we arrived, I followed Ian into the four-story building, missing my paltry one flight of stairs at the dormitory. Leaving my things just outside the door of the flat, Ian walked in first, letting us inside before he moved through to a bedroom. Waiting in the living room, I glanced at the sparse ( _male_ ) decor: two couches ( _seen better days_ ), a flag of Scotland on the wall, and one small dining room table that could only fit two chairs. I could hear the conversation happening around the corner in what I assumed was Jamie’s room and stayed out of sight.

“Would ye just come see if ye like what I brought?”

I heard Jamie make a noise in the back of his throat, one I’d fondly come to think of as ‘ _Scottish noise of acknowledgment_.’ 

“Ye ken I’m no’ particular about what ye put in the apartment.”

Covering my mouth to keep from laughing aloud, I tipped my head, continuing to eavesdrop as Ian valiantly tried to keep me a surprise.

“Aye, but if ye dinna like it I can still return it and get my money back.”

“Fine. In an hour. I’ll look then, but no sooner. I would rather finish the ledgers for Jared and be done so I can plan a visit to see Claire.”

I couldn’t help myself and tiptoed until I was standing in the doorway. Jamie’s back was to me, but when Ian glanced over at the movement, Jamie followed his lead.

His double-take was more than enough to make the trip worth it.

“Sassenach!” He was up and had me in his arms in a step and a half, sweeping me into an embrace that had my feet leaving the floor.

“Are you surprised?” I asked with a laugh as Ian excused himself to bring my things inside.

“Aye,” Jamie affirmed, eyes shining as his hands cupped my face. “How did ye — how long are ye here, _a nighean_?”

I had to kiss him first, pressing my lips to his in a gesture that quickly turned into something _more_ , my tongue in his mouth before I was aware of what I was doing. Pulling back, I was in motion even as Jamie lifted me, my legs moving around his waist as he kicked the door closed behind him and carried me to the bed.

“Seven full days,” I answered, delayed by another kiss. Dropping onto the mattress, he sat on the edge and I stayed in his lap, our hands each getting lost in the other’s hair as we surrendered to long pent-up want.

We kissed for what felt like hours, not speaking as we nuzzled and touched, then inevitably began rocking into one another. It was slow at first, gentle ebbing and flowing as we whispered between our kisses. My _I love yous_ sounded hoarse and needy; his were in Gaelic and sounded strong and sure. The removal of our clothing was slow, deliberate. Each part of me he exposed, Jamie leaned down to claim with his lips, both to warm my skin and tease at the same time. Once I’d slowly tugged his shirt over his head, I pushed my fingers up and through his sparse chest hair, then ducked just enough to drag the flat of my tongue across his nipple.

He began to groan loudly, I could _feel_ it, so I raised my head and sealed my mouth over his, trying to absorb as much of the sound as possible. There was something to be said about being apart for long weeks at a time and the lovemaking that followed our reunions. As Jamie thrust into me, I spared a thought for poor Ian, left alone in the living room with my luggage, and buried a laugh that co-mingled with a moan against Jamie’s neck.

When pleasure eventually claimed us as willing victims, my body nestled perfectly against Jamie’s. The sounds surrounding us were different here; the muffled noises of pedestrians and traffic below, and from somewhere not far off, soft strains of someone listening to one of the _Enigma Variations_ , though I couldn’t place which one. I waited until I could speak without being breathless, chin resting on his chest.

“Is it alright that I’m here? I know you might be too busy to spend all your time with me, but I—”

I was interrupted by a firm kiss to my forehead and Jamie gently tugging me up in order to claim my lips before he responded.

“I’ll never go anywhere ye cannae be, Sassenach. I do have work, but my evenings are free.” His hand pushed curls behind my ear, and as I met his gaze, my stomach turned to liquid all over again simply to see him this way; happy and soft, his eyes a brilliant azure. He looked content to never move again, as if the world could fall away around us and it wouldn’t matter. I wondered what had brought it on, but he answered before I could question him.

“To ken when I wake in the morning, and ye’ll be in my arms, and when I return home in the evening ye’ll be waitin’ to greet me, is motivation enough both to wake and work harder in order to get back to ye.”

I smiled, kissing his chin. “A glimpse of our future, this week?”

His grin was lopsided when he looked at me again. “Aye. A wee preview of our life.”

We lazed about for an hour or so, reluctantly dressing to rejoin Ian. He was my future brother-in-law, but I couldn’t quite meet his eyes and blushed furiously upon seeing him in the living room, listening to a record. I chanced a glance at Jamie and noticed the side of his neck had three red crescent shapes from my fingernails pressed into his skin. Pressing my lips together, I looked down and prayed Ian wouldn’t say anything about it. I occupied myself with looking through their meager book collection while they planned an evening out after supper with Jamie’s cousin. They supped there every evening, and Jamie had a room for the nights he needed to stay in order to work early before class. 

“Is that alright wi’ ye, Sassenach?”

I pulled myself from my thoughts and finally joined the conversation. “Sorry, staying with Jared?” I’d been caught only half-listening.

“Aye, I think ye’ll enjoy it, Sassenach. He has a staff so ye can have Magnus drive ye anywhere ye want to go while I’m working, and ye dinna have to worry about what to eat, the kitchen will make ye anything.”

“This is quite the life of luxury you’ve been living without me, James Fraser,” I playfully accused. “Do you even go to class?”

He laughed, looping an arm around my waist. “Dinna fash, I havena let it go to my head, but _you_ deserve it.”

“Aye, besides,” Ian interjected, “‘tis uncertain times. It could be good to have the extra money for both of us. In case we all need to get back to Scotland quickly.”

Jamie’s grip on me tightened, my head coming to rest on his shoulder as the three of us paused to wonder for just a moment what would happen next.

\-------------------

Each day that passed with Jamie brought us closer to the start of classes and, unfortunately, my impending departure. It made us selfish with our time, declining to join Jared and Ian on my third night for a dinner party away from home. Instead, we ate pastries and drank dessert wine in bed, straight from the bottle. After filling Jamie in on my last dig with Lamb, comfortable silence lapsed between us, and I tore off a piece of _kouign-amann_ , handing it over before breaking off a piece for myself.

In the quiet, my thoughts wandered, and after swallowing I finally spoke.

“It seems almost certain that war is going to be declared.” I couldn’t keep from saying it any longer, and I felt him exhale, his body sagging against mine. He didn’t say anything for so long that I looked over at him just as he reached for my hand.

“That’s another reason I’ve been working sae hard, Claire. If war’s declared, I’ll be—” He paused, not finishing the thought as he raised my hand to his lips. “There’s money saved I’m giving to ye before we part.”

Blinking quickly, I wet my lips, hand clinging to his as if something were happening _now_. “If it happens, Jamie, we’ll both be out there. I’ll be nursing and you’ll be—”

“Fighting,” he finished, setting everything on the bed aside and pulling me into his arms.

“If Britain declares war, everything will change, Jamie. We could die. We could both—” I was the one who couldn’t finish this time, pressing my face against his chest. “You said we have thousands of days left. You _promised_.”

His lips pressed to the crown of my head. “Aye, I did even if it was foolish of me. I cannae control whether I stay or go, but no matter what comes, Sassenach, I willna have love of country spurring me on. Only the love of you.” His lips pressed to my temple now, his nose grazing down along my jaw.

It was an amendment to his original promise that I had to accept; and that night, I slept tucked into the crook of his arm, one hand resting on his chest so that I could fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart.

Our last Sunday morning together, we slept late, curled around one another, only to be woken by knocking on the door. Blearily, I stretched against Jamie as a quiet voice spoke through the door.

“ _Tu dois venir vite_.” It was Suzette, one of the maids. “ _Il y a des nouvelles, monsieur Fraser_.”

Sitting up, I looked over at him, creasing my forehead. “News? Of the business, perhaps?”

Jamie shook his head, unsure, and as informed as I was at the moment. “Perhaps, Sassenach.” He stood, then reached out a hand to me. “We’ll dress for breakfast, then go down.” 

He repeated his words in French loudly enough that Suzette could hear through the door. Still, we took our time, touching and kissing and not getting much accomplished for another half-hour. When we finally made an appearance, no one was sitting in the dining room. We found Jared and Ian in the former’s home office. As soon as we walked into the room, the air changed to something charged; so full of tension that it could have been cut with a knife.

My hand reached for Jamie’s at the same moment he reached for me and spoke.

“What is it?” Jamie’s eyes narrowed as he studied his cousin.

Standing from his desk, Jared picked up the morning paper, staring at it for a few long moments before handing it over. I looked at Ian; he was sitting on the couch, leaning over with his head bowed. When I turned back to Jamie, his eyes were trained on the print in front of him, jaw clenched so hard I could see the vein in his temple. Frowning, I stepped closer in order to see the headline.

I thought I would vomit and meant to pull away sharply, but Jamie pulled me back fiercely, dropping the paper and pulling me against his chest. As he did, I glanced down at the fallen print, sagging against him as I read the bold letters.

_**War Declared by Britain and France.** _

A tear fell against my chin, and I didn’t know if it had come from him or me as we both tried to absorb the blow. I felt rather than saw Ian come close, standing beside Jamie.

“We need to go back before we have tae report. I need to see Jen.” 

Jamie and I parted as he nodded, and as I looked at him, studied his face and eyes, I realized he looked older, suddenly; the weight of becoming a soldier in one sentence seeming to age him instantly. It was jarring, and it scared me in a way I couldn’t begin to wrap my mind around. 

“Aye. We’ll return to Scotland right away, begin the journey this afternoon if we can.” 

He reached for my hand, brow creasing as I held onto him, wanting to give in to the urge to let my knees buckle. He kissed my knuckles in quiet fortification before finishing his thought. 

“And then we’ll go to war.” 

\-------------------

_I reached the riverbank and sat, clutching an empty glass bottle that once held sweet dessert wine. I rolled a piece of paper tightly and shoved it into the glass, pushing a cork into the top. It was a fantasy, really, and more a way to finally find a way to say goodbye. Next year, the tenth since I’d lost him, I would begin trying to move on. But for now, I left simple instructions:_

_‘3rd of September, 1949. Come find me, Jamie.’_

_If he was alive somewhere, I could give him that. One more year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Strawberry Wine_ will return in 2020. In the meantime, other fics are coming. Thank you for reading :)


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